


The Last of Their Kind

by Captain_Action



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternia-Focused, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, F/M, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Rage Aspect Speculation, Survival, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-16
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 01:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 66
Words: 208,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Action/pseuds/Captain_Action
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Earth, the last man atones for his past actions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Into the past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are reading this increasingly not-so-little fan-fiction of mine for the first and just want to skip to the part where the Condesce makes her appearance then jump to chapter 58. Although I do suggest you at least read chapter 57 so you can understand what is basically going on.

Life on the devastated Earth was hard. The rigors and hardships the last man on earth had to endure helped him regain most of the physique of his youth. However, with the renewed strength also came the painful memories of his younger days, of how he used to live as a thief and murderer. He did not know what was causing him to relive the past in increasing detail. The last man suspected that it was loneliness he was succumbing to or, perhaps, the guilt he still felt over a selfish choice he made when he was younger.

The last man put the finishing touches on the ramshackle windmill he had built and looked down hopefully at the jury-rigged condenser below. If this contraption worked, he would not have to resort to filtering his own urine ever again. Soon, the wind picked up causing the blades of the windmill began to turn, and the condenser roared to life. As the last man wiped the sweat from his brow with one hand, he fanned himself with his stylish, but serviceable hat, closed his eyes, and felt another one of his memories returning. As he reopened his eyes, he saw that the sun had changed to red, the windmill had become a tree, and the condenser below transformed into an enraged combination of pig, crocodile, and who knows what else. He knew that what he was seeing was a hallucination, still he was bothered by the realness of this vision. He quickly recognized this memory...

He had just turned seventeen and was looking for a place where he could get some target practice with his birthday present, a .357 caliber revolver. When, he discovered a cave that lead into some ruins decorated with strange reptiles and glyphs. In exploring the ruins he found a platform with a strange geometric shape in the middle of it. As he came closer to it he felt the hair on skin stand up. In youthful curiosity and foolishness he stepped on that strange platform. He found himself in a different set of ruins, which had the same decorations, but were not as deeply buried. The smell of ozone was around him. He heard a peal of thunder and looked up through an opening in the roof and saw a flash of lightning in a dark cloud above him. He examined the platform that brought him and noticed that this one had a metal rod that pointed to the sky. He explored the ruins and found an opening to the outside. From that portal he saw the source of the dark cloud, a volcano. He tried the platform again and again, but it would not operate. Panic overcame him when he finally understood that he had made a one way trip. He searched the ruins he was in many times, but, eventually, hunger forced him out try to find something to eat.

However, something found him first and when he fired a bullet into that strange creature, it became enraged. Though the strange beast was slower than him, it relentlessly pursued him. Exhausted and full of fear after hours of being chased, he resorted to climbing a tree. This action saved his life, but left him trapped as the creature waited at the trunk for him to eventually come down. Becoming desperate, he fired bullet after bullet into it randomly, nearly exhausting his supply. But the creature showed no signs of injury, despite the large brown splatters of its blood staining the ground. Furthermore, his sole remaining bullet was defective. Again, and again, he would rotate the chambers and then pull the trigger, but the last bullet would not fire. Having no other choice, he waited for the beast to wander off. The red sun traveled overhead and began to set. The sky darkened and he saw moons overhead. One green and the other pink with its own tiny pink moon. These moons provided all the proof he needed to understand he was not in some prehistoric past or a far-flung future of Earth. He was on another world! The rush from this realization soon faded as the beast below bellowed again and tried in vain to climb up the tree he was in.

Suddenly, she appear as a rapidly moving grey blur and when she reached the enraged beast's throat she stabbed into it with her sword. The beast spasmed as she twisted her weapon to and fro. Then, after the beast had fallen lifeless onto the ground, she gave the body of the creature a few kicks to make sure it was dead. From the tree, he watched as this mysterious grey skinned figure started butchering the creature. Feeling safe, he climbed down out of the tree and took a step towards his savoir. Only to freeze when he heard a twig snap under his foot. In a blink of an eye, he was slammed backwards against the tree by the grey skinned lady and had the tip of her sword touching his throat.

Thus, he got his first good look that the strange folk that lived on that world. She was similar him, except for the gray skin, the two spiky horns on her head, and the orange eyes with grey pupils that were tinged with a bit green. The speed at which she pinned him to the tree caused him to open his mouth from fear and awe. She studied his teeth intensely, then she grinned showing hers. She had mouth that belonged to a predator. No longer on the offensive, she sheathed her sword and began to touch his clothing, as if she could not believe what was in front of her. He looked at what she was wearing, clothing made from animal hides, all hand stitched. In her explorations, she knocked off his stylish, but serviceable hat and began to run her fingers through his hair rather roughly, as if she was searching for something that was missing. Once she had satisfied her curiosity, she picked up his hat and placed it on her head. When her horns prevented this from happening, she applied additional force, tearing two new holes in the hat for her horns to fit into. Suddenly, he became incensed at the abuse his hat suffered and he angrily snatched it back from her head

What followed was the third worst beating of his life.

When he regained his senses he quickly realized that he was completely naked. The pile of torn and slashed clothing spoke volumes of what happened while he was out cold. He looked at her and noticed his hat was on her head again and she was examining the items she found on his person. He reached for what remained of his pants and a felt something jab his neck. Raising his hands to investigate, he discovered there was now a thick leather collar around his neck that had a ring of spikes along the inside surface. He put on what was left of his pants and then noticed she was standing next to him!

He did not hear her make a sound in her approach. She pointed to the sunrise on the horizon and said something he did not understand. The realization that he had spent nearly all of the night unconscious hit him. But, he did not have time worry about that, as the grey skinned lady attached a rope to the collar on him and walked into a nearby cave. Again, she repeated her words and gave the rope a tug. He felt the bite of the inward facing spikes of the collar and took a half step towards the cave. For a third time she repeated the word, in a more commanding tone and began to reel in the rope. Quickly, he learned his first word of their language.

"Come"


	2. Mistress

Using various methods, she quickly taught him several new words in her people's language: stay, sit, stand, pick up, put down, here, there, walk, run, stop. In return, he learned to despise her. Since he did not know her name, he gave her a title instead, Mistress, and she embodied the very essence of that title. Although, as terrible as she was, his mistress did feed and keep an eye on him. 

At first, she kept him in the cave whenever she went hunting. It was during these unsupervised moments he was able to search through his mistress's possessions. But, he never found the objects she stole from him. Gradually, his mistress allowed him to explore around the entrance of the cave. More accurately, she would force him out of the cave and then roll a huge boulder to block the entrance. From there she would eagerly watch as he would be forced to defend himself against whatever happened to out there. Roach like beetles the size of a dog, eagle sized mosquito things, and other bizarre abominations would begin their attack as soon as they smelled his fear. The worst part of these impromptu gladiatorial games, was when he would get a lucky strike with a rock or branch and actually manage to kill his foe instead of driving it off. His mistress would quickly unblock the entrance from the cave and dissect the dead creature where it died. Next, she would offer him some disgusting bit of meat from it and if he did not consume the "prize" then she would force feed him it.

It did not take long for his mistress to notice the effect his fear had on the local wildlife. She took him hunting with her one night and left him tied to a tree alone. In the moonlight he saw the rather large tracks made by the local wildlife and the dozens of eyes glowing in the dark. As a result, his instinct for flight got the better of him. Eventually, a set of eyes would begin their approach, draw towards him by his fear. Then, always at the last possible moment, she would appear from hiding and land the killing blow. They reenacted their first meeting over and over again for what it seemed to him for weeks. The Piles of hides and other parts of her kills were getting larger in the cave.

Then, one night it happened. He was tired of being afraid and being bait for his mistress. When a large pair of eyes approached, he clearly saw that they were hungry. He jumped up and broke off a low-hanging branch from the tree his mistress leashed him to. He quickly snapped off the side branches and twigs from it and then filed the tip to a point on nearby rock. He looked up, he saw that the creature the hungry eyes belonged to was similar to the creature that had treed him on his first day of this savage world. He felt a different emotion welling up in him. It was not fear of before, as that emotion had completely burnt itself out, but something more primal.

When the creature neared, he fought like a cornered rat. The tip of his makeshift spear found an eye and caused the beast to roar in pain. The beast turned its head sideways and went for a bite. He turned his spear likewise and shoved it into the gaping maw that came for him. Having trapped the beast's jaws open, he let go of his spear and picked up a the rock with both hands from the ground. Then, acting on pure primitive instinct and rage, he repeatedly bludgeoned the lower jaw at the joint. Hearing a satisfying pop, he saw the jaw had become dislocated and hanged uselessly, thereby freeing the spear from the beast's mouth. When he saw the beast backed up and go into a crouched position, he picked up spear and set the butt of it against the tree. He guided the tip of the spear into the roof of the beast's mouth as it leaped towards him.

It took several minutes to recover from having the wind knocked out of him and to climb out from under the now dead creature. He looked at it and saw how the spear pierced the brain cavity and came out the back of the creature's skull. His mistress was there already, getting ready to peel the hide off the carcass. When she finally saw him she seemed impressed. She stopped her skinning operation, cut the ribcage of the dead creature open, reached inside, and pulled out it's brown heart. The heart was still slowly beating. This time his mistress didn't force the organ down his throat. Instead, she cut small pieces from the heart and allowed him to eat at his own pace. The flavor of this creature was a welcomed improvement over the vermin he had previously been forced to consume. After he had his fill, she ate what was left of the heart and resumed skinning the carcass. When everything was done, they started to return to cave. On the way back he had this strange feeling of loss, like a part himself died that night.

She tried to use him as bait one more time. This time his mistress tied his hands to the tree and left him there. Hours passed and nothing showed any interest in him. Getting more and more upset, his mistress started mimicking his panic cries and was able to attract a large and well armoured creature from the darkness. It slowly walked over to him and started to sniff. He just glared at it and spat into one of the creature's nostrils. The creature wrinkled it's snout oddly, sneezed, turned around, then kicked dirt and dust all over him and wandered off into the night. It took many hours to clean the gunk off of himself.

Back at the cave, he could tell that his mistress was thinking what to do with him. Since he lost his usefulness as bait, she needed to find a new way for him to be of service to her. After a few moments, she started stitching hides together and reinforcing the growing project with wood and bone. He watched and studied her leather working skills, seeking to learn as much as possible. After many hours he finally deduced what she was making, a large backpack. After she finished her project, his mistress wrestled and forced him to wear the backpack. Only then, did he then noticed the straps where set up so he could not get the pack off by himself. Next, she began to fill the pack with stones to stress test it. Satisfied with the pack's carrying capacity, she gave to command for him to run. He made a few half-hearted steps under the heavy load, so his mistress encouraged him to go faster with the tip of her sword. It was then he understood what his new job was, pack mule.

He hated his new job almost as much his previous one. When his speed was lacking, his mistress proved she was quite inventive with her methods of encouragement. The tip of her sword and small branches were employed to increase his rate of travel. She even goaded creatures into chasing him, which would work until he found another branch to make a spear with. But, what he despised the most was her greatest tool in motivating him. After exhausting all other methods, she could always get him to chase after her by pretending to damage his hat or just by mocking him with it. As the nights passed he became faster, stronger, and needed less encouragement to travel at the speed his mistress desired. He noticed there was one positive aspect to his new job, his mistress now allowed him to eat from her kills. Before, she would wait until he was about to drop dead from hunger before allowing this. Having easy access to meat did not stop him from killing the local vermin. Instead of nourishment, they now provided suitable targets to vent his anger and frustrations on and his mistress seemed to approve of his new found blood lust.

Eventually, the leaves started to change color and the creatures his mistress hunted became scarce. She loaded the hides and other trophies of her kills into the pack he wore and together they left the cave. As he followed her, he had to keep brushing his hair out of his eyes to see. which caused the realization that he had been trapped on this strange world for several months to hit him. He froze in mid-step, but his mistress gave the leash a quick tug and the resulting bite from the teeth in his collar got him to resume his journey. 

Following his mistress from shelter to shelter, he noticed that these took many forms: caves, rocky overhangs, and large trees. After a few nights of traveling, they found a set of tracks. His mistress became excited when she saw them. The tracks took the form of two lines running side by side with a set of hoof prints in between them. It several minutes for him to decipher the track pattern. They were made by a wagon pulled by some type creature with hooves. This track made him look at mistress with new understanding. She was not some savage, but a very practical and professional hunter. Also, this world had some form of civilization after all.

Following the wagon tracks was unpleasant for him for one major reason. It left little time to hunt and even the vermin were far and few. Hunger enticed him to sample the local flora, but most of plants he tried were unpalatable. He did not stop experimenting and eventually found a few plants that seemed edible. However, his mistress forced her fingers into his mouth and removed the plant matter he was chewing, on more than one occasion. Causing him to glare at her, until the poisonous substances took their toll on him. His mistress found his choking, coughing, and vomiting fits hilarious. In the end, all this experimentation was productive. He found several plants that were safe to eat and one that tasted like someone had mixed iodine and super hot sauce together.

After a week of following the wagon track, it was joined by another one. This new track was deeper than the first and along one side of the wagon ruts was a trail of humanoid tracks. He examined the humanoid trail and noticed that they walked in single file and at least one of them had a peg leg. After few more hours of travel, the breeze shifted and he could smell cooked meat and a campfire. This was something he had not smelled since coming to this world. His mistress gave his leash a quick tug and quickened her pace. He struggled to keep up.

They approached a tremendously large tree. Below it's massive branches were a pair of wagons and around those were several strange creatures with packs on their backs and their owners beside them. As he and his mistress jogged closer, he heard other grey skinned folk calling out to her. It seemed to him that they were making threats towards his mistress based on the tone of voice that they used. She answered. He did not know what his mistress yelled back, but the tone she used meant she was ready and willing to kill. It was near morning when he and his mistress got under the canopy of the tree. She quickly set up camp so they could rest for the day. As she did so, he could feel the intense stare of dozens of eyes watching him.


	3. The Strange Folk

He listened to the other strange folk give their orders to their pack bearing creatures. While he could understand most of the orders, there was another word spoken besides the command words. He recalled that in the past his mistress had used a similar word when ordering him around. Furthermore, the creatures with hooves had an adjective or prefix added to the beginning of this second word. Likewise, the creatures that were impressively well muscled had their own adjective. His mistress broke his focus by ordering him to come and sit beside her. He obeyed, but he noticed that his mistress did not use any adjectives for him. As she started to unload the pack he bore, he thought about the meaning of this second word. He observed in the past that his mistress had used this second word occasionally when she was checking to see if the creature she was about to skin was truly deceased. The hair on the back of his neck stood up when he finally guessed what the second word meant, beast. Since, he had no defining characteristics, the title given to him by his mistress was simply that, beast.

Beast, that word ran through mind continuously as the red sun began to rise. Between that word and the smell of the cooked meat, he could not sleep. After tossing and turning with the empty backpack still on him, he noticed his mistress had neglected to tie him to herself. Furthermore, he saw that all activity in the other camps had stopped as well. Thoughts escape flashed through his mind. Until, he asked himself the question of where to. He knew he was still dependent his mistress for protection and food. He got up and looked around. Shafts of light penetrated the canopy, allowing enough light for him to survey the entire group campsite. Looking from his mistress's campsite, he got his first good looks at the other members of her people. What he noticed most were their horns. Every individuals had their unique set on their heads. Observing further, he saw them suffering the same nightmares that plagued his mistress. Because of their strangeness and his lack of ability to communicated with them, he began calling the strange folk. 

He continued to smell the cooked meat that still lingered in the air. He figured a few bites would be worth the beating his mistress would give him, if she caught him. Putting to use the stalking skills he developed while killing vermin, he made his way to the large fire and the two wagons that were at the center of this group campsite. The backpack on his back made the silent journey harder. Once he reached his goal, he made sure that there was not anyone watching. Feeling safe, he approached the large camp fire and put a charred bit of meat in his mouth. The meat was delicious though it was totally overcooked. One mouthful soon became many and after stuffing himself he finally became aware that he was being watched!

He slowly looked around could not see anyone. Then, he heard the commands for "beast", "pickup", and "come" being whispered to him. Looking towards the whispering, he saw several pairs of eyes watching him from beneath the larger wagon. He tried to ignore them, but the whispering got louder and more demanding as he started throwing all the best pieces of the cooked meat into his backpack. Soon, he became concerned that the whispering would alert not only his mistress, but all the other strange folk nearby. Then, a very large femur caught his eye. The meat on it was more raw than cooked, but there was plenty still on it. Holding the femur with both hands, he brought it to the large wagon. Slowly, he offered the meaty bone to the darkness below the wagon. When the end of the bone got near, a grey hand shot out and ripped the femur out his hands. The urgent whispering was quickly replaced with chewing noises and shushing. He used this opportunity travel back to his mistress. As he reached her area, he noticed that fresh boot tracks lead from her sleeping spot towards the fire and then back again. Instantly he knew that she had followed him and watched everything he did from a far, then she laid back down to rest. Accepting his eventual punishment, he laid down beside his mistress and began to sleep.

The expected beating never came.

He awoke from his mistress's usual wake up call, which were a few hard nudges to the ribs with the toe of her boot. Looking at her, he noticed that she had a smug look on her face. As he got up, he felt that a change in the contents of the backpack had occurred. He reached into it and found only bones. The red sun was slowly falling below the horizon and all the campsites came to life again. Watching the other strange folk, he realized that they were hunters just like his mistress and they were getting ready for a hunt. Looking back at the central fire, he spied that another one of the strange folk had emerged from the large wagon and screamed a series of orders under it causing seven more of the strange folk to emerge.

They were a sad looking lot. One had lost a foot and walked on a peg leg, another had a hook for a hand, most had a horn broken off, and all were missing teeth. What he noticed most about them was what they had around their neck. Each wore a collar with spikes on the inside like the one he wore, except theirs were made from metal. Furthermore, these collars each in turn was attached to a metal chain. The understanding that he was not his mistress's slave, but her pet hit him hard. Suddenly, her cruel treatment of him made perfect sense. She was treating him like beast because she thought he was one.

The discovery of the now meatless femur under the wagon by the strange folk that had emerged from the large wagon resulted in an angry scream followed by pulling hard on the chain that the slaves were attached to. All at once the slaves grabbed their throats and fell to their knees. He watched as the maroon, brown, and yellow colored blood of slaves began to trickle down their torsos. Repulsed by what he had just seen, he gave the strange folk in charge of the slaves a title, Overseer, because of that brutal act. After watching how the enslaved strange folk were treated, he decided that he would keep playing the part of his mistress's beast and hoped that would find a way to escape this strange and savage world and return home before ever having metal collar put on him. 

He did not have time to ponder the significance of the different blood colours, as his mistress gave the command to follow and lead him over to the other packbeasts. There she tied other end of the leash to a log and walked over to the central fire with the other hunters. He looked at other beasts and noticed that some of them possessed hands with opposable thumbs that held simple clubs and stone tipped spears. These weapons gave him idea to try to manufacture some weapons with the plentiful supply of obsidian that was in the vicinity of the volcano. A series of commands given in a nonsensical order drew his attention next. It was another one of the packbeasts parroting it's owner. He tuned out the senseless chatter as he wondered what was deciding factor if tool use and speech was not enough for the strange folk to enslave.

Again, he did not have much time to think as the owners of packbeasts ended their meeting by the central camp fire and came back to retrieve their pets. They left the huge tree as a group with a single torch, which struck him as odd as his mistress and the other strange folk were able to see just fine in the dim moonlight. It was welcomed, as the light from the torch allowed him to avoid tripping over the numerous stumps that were all over the grassy plain the group was traveling through. The realization hit him after an hour of avoiding the stumps, what they were walking through was once a huge forest. The tree they camped under yesterday was its sole survivor.

After several hours and a few stubbed toes later, he saw what it was that the group of strange folk were hunting. A herd of megabeast were barely discernible in the light of the moons, but size of them fill him with a sense of awe. The torch was used to ignite several more, and these were passed around. Then, after securing their packbeasts, the group of hunters set off towards the herd. From a distance, he watched the torchbearers encircled a single megabeast and drive it towards the other hunters. The distance and darkness made it difficult to tell where his mistress was located in the hunt. It did not take long for the assaulted megabeast to bellow out in pain and rage. This caused the herd to turn in unison to aid their member in need. The torch bearers ran to intercept the incoming megabeasts. He watched amazed as one of the torchbearers occasionally would be sent flying by a megabeast, only for them to get back up and resume their interference. A pained groan drew his attention back to the singled out megabeast. One of its hind legs dragged uselessly behind it and the silhouettes that gathered around the other hind leg were in the process of hamstringing that leg too. The torchbearers sensing the kill was imminent, began dragging their torches along the ground as they ran to rejoin the group. The fiery trails they left behind them grew quickly into a conflagration so great that it scared off the rest of the megabeast herd. The wounded megabeast soon had the use of its front legs taken from it and fell.

What he saw next surprised him, all the teamwork and cohesion that the strange folk displayed throughout the night's hunt vanished. All at once, they began to greedily tear into defeated megabeast. Soon fights started breaking out. In amazement, he watched as two of the strange folk fought over a large tusk while a third made off with the prize. As the thief approached where he and the other packbeasts were tied up, he could see it was his mistress. She wasted no time in cramming the tusk into the pack on his pack. Then, she untied him and gave him the command to go. Not wanting to be caught with stolen goods, he began to travel in the direction his mistress's finger was pointed in. He could hear the strange folk still battling with each other as he traveled in the dim moonlight. For hours he traveled alone following the tracks the hunting party made on their way from the great tree. He almost reached his destination when his mistress caught up with him. She shoved a few more things into the backpack and ran ahead with a large piece of meat.

As he neared the edge of the great tree's canopy, he saw the slaves carrying a log on their shoulders approaching the group camp. Continuing on, he stopped at where he and his mistress slept the night before. From there, he overheard an argument and looked towards the raised voices and noticed his mistress was near the smaller wagon. She was shouting at another strange folk next to a scale and the two were taking turns adjusting weights on it. After few minutes, he understood that this was a barter session. He listened carefully to the words and tones being used. There was one word he kept hearing over and over again, usually before one or the other adjusted weights on the scale again. Eventually, the two came to an agreement. The other strange folk retrieved several items from the wagon and passed them to his mistress. She in return, handed over her items to the other strange folk. Witnessing this exchange, he gave the title of merchant to the strange folk who appeared to own the small wagon. Then, he froze as on item was passed to the merchant. 

It was his birthday present.

Realizing that his mistress had just traded away something that once belonged to him, his emotions got the better of him. He screamed at his mistress in anger and in his own language. Then, recalling that he needed to play the role of a beast, he silenced himself by placing his hands over his mouth. His mistress and the merchant just stared blankly at him for bit, then his mistress turned and began talking to the merchant. Based on her hand motions, he could tell that his mistress was telling the story of how he made his first kill. But, the merchant was not buying the story and started inspecting the revolver by looking down it's barrel and pulling the trigger repeatedly. Fortunately, the defective bullet did not fire. Eventually, his mistress motioned for him to approach. Soon, the items in the backpack were removed and given to the merchant. 

Then, his mistress grabbed him and began drawing the merchant's attention to various parts of his anatomy. His teeth, hands, muscle tone, and skin coloration all failed to impress the merchant. That changed when his mistress lifted his hair that obscured his eyes. At the sight of them, the merchant became very interested in him. Despite the groping, he did his best to hide any sign of intelligence by maintaining a dull look and by staring off into the distance. After few moments, he felt a knife prick his ear. When his mistress let his hair fall back over his eyes, he carefully watched the facial expressions of his mistress and the merchant as they marveled over his blood color. There was greedy smile growing on the merchant's face. As his mistress lead him back to her part of the communal camp, he heard the small wagon being packed up. He had a strange feeling of foreboding as it left the camp.

He sat and watched as his mistress examined the objects she traded for. Pliers, metal utensils of various shapes and sizes, and an assortment of needles were laid out before her. As she scrutinized the tools one by one, he tried to guess what they were for. As far as he could tell, the tools were for extracting the more delicate parts of the creatures she hunted and to perform leather-work. He recalled that several times in the past his mistress had tried to pry a tooth or horn off a creature with her sword, only to have the prize become ruined by splitting apart. These new tools should allow her to practice her trade with greater efficiency he reasoned. All in all, his enslavement was a great windfall for his mistress. Bur, this understanding did little to curb the growing rebellious feelings in him.

He heard a crashing sound as the slaves dropped the log they carried near the central fire. Fascinated, he watched from his mistress's spot as the overseer screamed out a few more orders at the slaves. All at once, they let out bloodcurdling screams. Their faces twisted into pure manifestations of hate and with their bare hands the slaves started to break off kindling sized pieces of wood from the tree. Thinking back, he had seen that look of hatred before on his mistress's face when he took back his hat from her when they first met. Watching the amazing displays of strength, his thoughts drifted to how the strange folk kept their slaves from breaking their collars and escaping. When the tree was finally dismantled, the overseer screamed out another command and the slaves crawled under the big wagon.

He felt a tug on his collar. He turned his head to look at his mistress and saw she was making the hand motion for him to follow. Together they left the group camp site and traveled away until he could barely see the great tree. Then, they circled around it until they found the hunting party returning from the hunt. His mistress motioned him to lie down among the stumps with her until the hunting party passed, then the two of them followed behind the other strange folk back into the group camp. He wondered what was the point of all this sneaking around and why his mistress never spoke a single command during this outing.

Back in camp, he watched as the wood the slaves had processed was used to rebuild the central fire. Next, one by one each of the strange folk placed their portions of meat near the fire to cook. He noticed that his mistress was the last in line. Soon, the camp overflowed with tension and the smell of cooking meat. Based on the tones he was hearing, the hunt did not go as well as it should have. A few of the strange folk were in each other faces slowly reaching for their weapons. Others were trying to calm the hot heads down by shushing them and lightly stroking the sides of their faces. One even pulled their weapon out and stood between another pair who were about to come to blows. Gradually, the atmosphere in the group camp became calm again. 

Based on what he had just seen, he reasoned that there was a ranking system among the strange folk and that his mistress was pretty low on it, but higher than the slaves. Furthermore, she must have broke rank by taking the tusk. This was a good reason for the merchant to suddenly leave, as to avoid getting caught fencing stolen goods. To complete the cover up they had to rejoin the hunting party. Thankfully nobody in the hunting party bothered to look behind them on the return trip. He chuckled to himself because larceny seemed to be a universal concept.

A strange whinny captured everyone's attention. From the darkness a pair of hoofbeasts arrived, on one there was a rider and on the other there was a metal cage. Something inside it hissed.


	4. Mistakes made, Lessons learned

He carefully examined this new visitor, who was a mountain of muscle, scars, and, for some unknown reason, fresh bite marks. A hush quickly descended over the camp as the rider dismounted, approached the central fire, and began to feast on the cooking meat. It took only a few minutes of observation for him to bestow the title, Behemoth, to this visitor. Looking at the others in the group camp, he noticed that his mistress and everyone else were terrified of this visitor. In addition, any sign of the animosity that was present in the group camp before was now completely gone. He continued watching the visitor and noticed that a few of the bite marks on the Behemoth were still weeping indigo blood.

The Behemoth finished eating, got up and walked over to the Overseer's wagon. The two conversed normally for a few minutes while looking at the metal cage still on one of the hoofbeasts. The Overseer quickly deployed a scale much resembling the one his mistress and the merchant had used and picked up one of the weights and started moving to place it on the scale. But, the Behemoth intercepted the Overseer's hand with the weight and began to squeeze it. A pained scream issued from the Overseer as the muscles in the Behemoth's arm bulged out. The Overseer quickly produced a small bag and held it up. With the other hand, the Behemoth assessed the bag for a few seconds, then became enraged, and began to squeeze harder. The Overseer howled louder and dropped to a knee as a trickle of cobalt colored blood started to drip from the Overseer's hand inside the clenched fist of the Behemoth. After a few more minutes of torture, the Overseer surrendered another, slightly larger, bag. Satisfied, the Behemoth claimed both bags and picked up the metal cage and slammed it down on the back end of the Overseer's wagon causing what was in it to screech loudly. A black cloth thrown over the metal cage quickly calmed whatever was inside.

Having finished with the Overseer, The Behemoth evicted one of the strange folk from their claimed spot near the cooking fire in the communal camp. The first eviction lead to another, then another, until it was his mistress's turn to relocate nearer to the edge of the canopy provided by the huge tree. These chained evictions provided him with an excellent example of how the ranking system of the strange folk worked. He continued to watch as the hunters reclaimed what was left their meals from the cooking fire, noticing again that his mistress was the last in line.

The horizon began to lighten in color and all of the strange folk bedded down for the day. Morning arrived and again his mistress did not bother to tie him. Again, he started sneaking towards the cooking fire, this time the task was made easier by the snoring coming from the Behemoth. As he passed, he looked at the gear piled on the pair of hoofbeasts the belonged to the Behemoth. Among the odds and ends, a tremendous bow made from a pair of horns caught his attention and gave him the idea to fabricate one for himself.

He continued towards the smell of cooked meat and frowned. There was little left compared to yesterday's abundance. He began to feed off the leftovers and when finally satisfied he tossed a few of the remaining pieces into the backpack he wore. He looked under the Overseer's wagon and saw the eyes of the slaves watching him again. This time they did not whisper to him, but it was obvious to him that they were hungry. Recalling the reprimand the slaves suffered the night before, he deboned and skewered the last of the leftovers on a stick and shoved the meaty end near the darkness under the Overseer's wagon. One of the slaves took it, then stuck their head out from under wagon, and squinted at him as he stood in a beam of daylight which managed to pierce the canopy. He could tell it was the yellow blooded one based on the yellow stains on the metal collar.

He had wondered how the Overseer kept his property under control and now he saw. Like the leather version he wore, the metal collars the slaves wore had finger long spikes along the inside surface. But, these collars were not solid loops of metal, but rather several segments hinged together so the metal collar would be flexible. Thus making any attempt to escape by pulling the collar apart impossible, as it would always result in impalement. This, he knew from personal experience with the leather collar around his neck. He risked a closer look of collar on the yellow blooded slave and noticed the chain that the slave was attached to was threaded through the all of the parts of the collar. This choke chain arrangement allowed collective punishment to easily be administered with a single pull. He marveled at the brutal efficiency of the metal collars and started to feel a little sick. 

The cloth draped cage drew his curiosity next. He crept up to it and lifted the cloth. The first thing he noticed was the door of the cage was held close by a piece of wire. He pulled the cloth back some more and peered into the cage. A pair of small eyes, just like the other strange strange folk, looked back at him. Though his suspicion of what was in the cage made him angry, he had to be sure. He reached into the backpack and pulled out a small piece of meat and dangled it close to the bars. A small grey hand reached out and flailed at the offering. He brought the meat closer to the hand that reached for it and watched as both disappeared into the cage. He put the black cloth back over the cage and then walked past his sleeping mistress into the stump strewn plain beyond the canopy. In his mind, slavery was bad enough, but something about keeping a child in small cage bothered him deeply and he needed to get a hold on his emotions. Picking a stump to sit on, he pondered the possible reasons for the cage, but none made any sense to him. Eventually, the only way he found to calm himself was to make a promise that he would free the child in the cage if possible. Feeling a little better, he walked back to where his mistress was, and laid down to sleep.

She woke him just after sunset with the toe of her boot, as usual. The Behemoth was at the cooking fire conversing with a few of the hunters. When they were finished, the Behemoth bellowed out the command to come. All the hunters, including his mistress, approached the cooking fire. The Behemoth dictated a series of orders and then mounted one of his hoofbeasts and rode off with both of them towards the megabeasts. Everyone in the camp got ready for tonight's hunt quickly as possible. Again, a single torch was lit and the hunting party set off through the stumps. After a few hours, the hunting party caught up with the Behemoth.

Again, he was left tied up with the other packbeasts and was watching the hunters when he heard a loud buzzing sound. A large beetle landed nearby. He started searching for a suitable sized rock to squash it with, but a well muscled packbeast swung its stone tipped spear like club at the offending vermin. The blow easily killed the pest, but also shattered the stone point of the spear. Curious, he picked the largest part of the broken spearhead and discovered it still had decent edge on one side of it. After tearing a bit of cloth from his tattered pants, he wrapped the material around the sharp piece of stone. He held up and admired his first weapon, a stone knife.

Several shouts caused him to look up and see the torchbearers surround a megabeast and drive it towards the Behemoth. Bow at the ready, the Behemoth aimed and fired an arrow into the head of the megabeast. The mighty creature fell and was still. The torchbearers and the Behemoth repeated this exercise twice more. With final megabeast slain, the hunting party began to take prizes from the kills. Based on rank, the Behemoth was first, then each hunter took their turn, with his mistress being last.

She lead him to the picked over carcasses. Out of the hides she wore came the pliers, which she used to pull the teeth and put them into the backpack. After those were taken, she started on the scales of the megabeasts. After watching his mistress harvesting few of them, he learned enough of her technique. He walked over the next carcass and began to harvest the scales from it with his stone knife. He was so focused on harvesting that he almost failed to notice the heavy footsteps and ther heavier breathing approaching behind him. Knowing that he was being closely watched, he continued to harvest, but as if he was an animal imitating the motions made by his mistress. As such, he ruined several scales before his mistress joined him. She seemed to be happy at first that he was helping, but that changed when she noticed the stone knife in his hands. She frowned and looked at the rope that had been his leash for months now and back to the stone knife in his hand. Once they were finished with the scales, she cut a large piece of meat from a carcass and the two of them started to pursue the other hunters who were making their way back to camp. He had another feeling of foreboding as the Behemoth mounted up and then rode away from the communal camp and into the darkness with his hoofbeasts.

With the absence of the Behemoth, the camp came alive again. His mistress started bartering with the newest addition of the camp, another peddler of metal goods in a wagon. A few of the hunters made themselves busy by roasting the meat from the hunt. The two hotheads were squabbling with each other again as a crowd gathered around them. Some were trying to calm them in the same manner as before. Even the Overseer and the slaves were distracted by dismantling another tree for the cooking fire. With all activity around him, he realized that for the moment, no one was watching him. This was the opportunity he needed to free the child from the cage.

Crawling on his hands and feet, he made his way to the rear of the Overseer's wagon. He pulled the black cloth over himself to conceal his efforts at removing the wire that held the cage's door shut. The wire was stronger that it first appeared and removing it took longer than expected. He was almost finished when he heard the slaves whispering to him. The words for "stop", "go", and "beast" were prominent among the ones he understood. There was another word the slaves whispered, he did not understand what it meant, only that his mistress had used it repeatedly during her barter session with the Merchant. With a final bit of effort he pulled the wire out, pulled the black cloth completely off of the cage, and stepped back. The slaves, as group ,dove under the Overseer's wagon. The door slowly swung open and the child tumbled out. It appeared to be between four and five years of age, if it was human. The child stood up and turned to face him. He could see on its face was some kind of white powder. It walked over to him, hugged his leg, looked up at him, and smiled.

Then the child bit him.

As he fell backwards, all the facts about the child on his leg came together in his mind. The cage, the Behemoth being covered in bite marks, there being two hoofbeasts with only one rider, the animalistic screeching of the child, the slaves telling him to stop, and their subsequent absconding. All of these facts pointed towards one inescapable conclusion. This child was completely feral and he had just set it free.

His only instinctive reaction was to start kicking the feral child as hard as he could. With every powerful blow from his free leg, the feral child slipped a little further down his leg, where it would bite again. After many kicks, the feral child was sent tumbling away. He watched in amazement as it instantly stood up and wiped the purple blood from its nose. Next, it sighted a nearby packbeast, and made an impressive leap that was many times its own body length and height onto the unfortunate creature. Under furious assault by the feral child, the packbeast broke its tether and began to run about the communal camp in a blind panic. The owner of the packbeast stopped trying to calm one of the hot headed hunters and raced after their pet. That hot headed hunter, free from any calming influence, screamed suddenly and drew a weapon. This caused the other hot headed hunter to do the same. Then, He heard the shouting of the Overseer at the slaves, who were still under the large wagon. The Overseer was pointing towards the feral child running amok. Whatever the commands were shouted, the slaves refused to obey them.

Realizing that the situation in the communal camp was deteriorating, he ran as fast as he could towards his mistress. She was still in a bartering session, oblivious to the sounds of chaos echoing throughout the night. When she finally noticed him, she gave him a disbelieving look. He followed her gaze down to his hand and noticed that he was still holding the black cloth that was covering the feral child's cage. He quickly stowed the evidence of his crime into the backpack he bore. His mistress raised her left hand to deliver to him a stinging rebuke, but she never got the chance. He saw behind her a packbeast, in a state of panic, blunder into the cooking fire, where it got its harness tangled with a flaming log. Then, the creature slammed into the side of the wagon that his mistress and the strange folk she was bartering with stood near. The wagon slid a few feet from the impact and knocked both of them down. The packbeast managed to get free from its flaming harness and ran off into the night with its owner still chasing after it. When they regained their footing, the owner of the wagon got up and started to fight the fire that was slowly engulfing the wagon. His mistress, ever the opportunist, unloaded the scales and teeth from his backpack onto the ground. Then, she helped herself to the numerous metallic objects that were on display inside the wagon and stowed them in the pack on him. He noticed that one these objects looted was a metal chain.

Next she grabbed his leash and together they absconded from the communal camp. They did not stop their breakneck pace until the energy from the adrenaline in his system began to fade. She tried her usual tricks to get him to move, but they did not work. Even pretending to rend his stylish, but serviceable hat failed. His mistress relented, gave the order for him to sit and then rummaged through the backpack on him. He looked back at the great tree and listened to the sounds of armed combat, war-cries, and tormented pack beasts.

Eventually, his mistress found the item she was searching for in the backpack. She removed the rope leash and replaced it with the metal chain she stole. Then, his mistress looped the metal leash around the leather beast's collar several times in different spots before giving the chain a quick tug. He understood her reasons for the upgrade. Since he now had a knife, she was taking precautions to prevent him from escaping by cutting his beast's collar.

Another tug on the leash encourage him to follow hi mistress. He tried to follow, but nearly stumbled as he started to feel the pain from the bites he had suffered. It did not take long for his mistress to notice his limping. She looked at his bite covered leg and at the crimson spotted trail behind him. Again, she reached in the backpack, this time pulling the black cloth out. A few slashes of her sword produced several strips of cloth which were used as bandages. He was barely bleeding from the bites, but he knew that there were many creatures on this world who could track a blood trail. As they resumed their journey, he looked back at the great tree one final time. It was now a column of flame on the horizon.

His mistress lead the way to a rocky overhang. Once under it, they heard a hiss. His mistress quietly drew her sword and left him. He pulled out his stone knife just in case. After a few quiet and tense moments, he saw a sudden flash of moonlight off her sword in the brush, soon followed by reptilian hiss that was cut short. The creature was not very large and he received only a little to eat from it. However, it did make up for the meat his mistress had to abandon when they absconded from the communal camp under the great tree.

There they slept through the day and just after sunset they began to travel back towards the volcano again. Sleep failed to reduce the pain in his wounded leg. After walking through the next night and sleeping through the second day, he woke up to a warm sensation in the injured limb. Walking through the third night was unpleasant and he woke in the middle of the next day with a throbbing pain in his wounded leg. He removed the bandages and saw the bite wounds were inflamed, swollen, and pus was coming out the bigger teeth wounds in his leg. He felt weak and despite having little food for the past three days, he was not hungry. There was no doubt in his mind what was the new foe he was now fighting was, infection.

He closed his eyes and thought about what would be his mistress's solution to this problem. In all probability, she would lop off the infected limp with her sword or let it rot off. He knew it was his usefulness to her is what kept him alive so far and the moment that changed, she would kill or abandon him. He needed another option. He surveyed the surroundings around the shelter they were resting under. In the daylight, he spotted a familiar maroon colored plant in the vicinity. In his previous attempts at sampling the local flora, he made the unfortunate discovery of this plant's habanero like heat. But, he also recalled that it had a metallic taste, reminiscent of iodine. Figuring that he had nothing to lose, he decided to treat his wounds with this plant. But first, he had to get free from his mistress.

Looking at her, he noticed that she had fallen asleep with the chain to his collar in her hand. He suspected that his mistress no longer trusted him as a result of his recent shenanigans. Fortunately, the nightmares that plagued the sleep of his mistress would make his temporary escape easy. Waiting patiently, he listened to his mistress begin snarl and growl in her sleep. Soon, her fingers started to twitch as if she was fighting with some foe in her dreams. Gently pulling, he slid the chain out of his mistress's grasp. Finally, he quietly gathered up the chain and with his stone knife walked towards the edge of the shade provided by the shelter. He listened and watched carefully for any sign of danger, as he knew was not the only diurnal creature on this world. Once satisfied that his own personal safety was intact, he dug up a few of the maroon plants and retreated back into the shady area below the shelter.

With a single sniff, he confirmed these were the plants he had encountered before. After careful dissection with his knife and examination with his senses of taste and smell, he discovered that the roots of the maroon plant were strongest in the metallic flavor. Unfortunately, they were also the most potent part of the plant in terms of heat. Suddenly, the idea of rubbing his infected wounds with something that belonged in a sadist's Mexican restaurant seemed like a bad plan. As he further thought about his situation, he realized that he did not have any alternatives. He proceeded dice and grind the roots into a paste with his knife. Then, he turned the point of his knife towards the bite wounds on his leg with intent to clean the infection from them. At the first contact between the knife and one of his wounds, he experienced a searing pain. He mentally cursed himself for failing to clean his knife properly as he carried on with his cleaning efforts. Then, biting his lower lip, he worked the root paste into his wounds. He did not make sound, as he dared not without risking waking his mistress. Once finished, he made back to her, gently worked the chain back into her hand, tied the bandages back onto his leg, laid down and waited for the burning pain in his leg to go away. After what seemed like hours, he finally fell asleep.

His mistress woke him by giving his bandaged leg several light kicks. As he sat up, he noticed there was no pain in his wounds, but an odd numbness instead. His mistress continued to her assault, alternating between his wounded leg and the other. He rationalized that she was judging his overall health. Looking up at his mistress, he noticed she had another one of the reptiles she killed a few nights ago over her shoulder. She dumped the carcass in front of him, sat down, and pulled out a metal knife. He watched his mistress start to skin the dead creature, but his attention wandered as he wondered why she was bothering with such a small kill. His mistress regained his focus with a quick thump to his head with the hilt of her skinning knife. His mistress continued skinning operation, but stopped half way through it. Then, she pointed to his stone knife and back to the carcass. He understood what his mistress was thinking. Since, she observed him imitating her actions, she now wanted to see if he was capable of mimicking additional ones. He was able to get most of his half the hide off, despite his lack of experience and the crudeness of his knife. This seemed to please his mistress and she took the hide and began cutting pieces from it. Once done cutting, his mistress put the pieces into the pack on him and gave the command for him to follow. 

As he followed her back through familiar territory, he kept a wary eye on his wounds. They seemed to be healing as the redness, warmth, and inflammation diminished each night. Every so often, His mistress would make another kill and repeat the same skinning lesson again. With each hide pulled from a carcass, she would cut shapes from it and throw those into the backpack on him. Once his mistress had all the pieces she needed, she began to stitch them together. It nearly took an entire night to complete her project. When she finished, his mistress presented him with a pair of knee high boots. Recalling that he was playing the role of a dumb beast, he pretended not to know what to do with them. His mistress, a bit frustrated, demonstrated what to do with them by taking off her own boots and putting them back on. Mimicking her actions, he slipped on the boots she made for him. They were a nearly a perfect fit, which amazed him as he could not recall a time that his mistress ever measured his feet. Their pace of travel increased as he no longer had to dodge the thorny bushes, sharp rocks, and the other environmental hazards that made walking around with bare feet a risky venture.

When the two of them were only a few days away from where they met the first time, his mistress suddenly turned on to a new path.


	5. Home Sweet Cave

After another week of traveling from refuge to refuge, he spied tracks going in the same direction they were traveling. It was difficult to make sense of them as his mistress kept commanding him to return to her side whenever he drifted away to get a closer look. Eventually, he saw enough of the tracks to identify that it was a few individuals who made them. One in particular, appeared to be an adult, while the others seemed to younger. As a group they were walking in a line, but there was also something being dragged, something that bled maroon blood. As he followed his mistress, he saw the strange narrative on the ground unfold with growing dread. One by one, the the tracks made by younger walkers were replaced by a dragging trail. Often with a large maroon or brown blood splatter where the conversion took place. He lost all interest in the trail once all the younger walkers' tracks disappeared.

The two of them arrived at a cave entrance in a cliff face just before dawn. Giving him the command to stay, his mistress drew her sword and stealthily approached the cave opening. Wondering what was in the cave, he quickly hid in some nearby brush. After several minutes he heard several beast calls and looked up and noticed that his mistress was the source of them. From inside the cave he could hear the sound of a heavy chain being dragged. He watched his mistress hide behind some boulders.

Soon, in the mouth of the cave appeared a well muscled strange folk, still wearing a slave's metal collar, wielding a maroon and brown blood splattered axe. The slave took several steps from the cave, dragging a chain with a few empty collars attached to it. The noise from it completely masked his mistress's movements as she sneaked behind the escaped slave with her sword drawn and ran the slave through with her sword from behind. The results of his mistress's attack were surprisingly effective and forced him to pay careful attention of where his mistress struck, in the middle of the upper torso. After the escaped slave had collapsed to the ground, he heard his mistress spoke the command for him to approach. Once he was near, she ordered him into the cave.

Due to the lack of light in the cave, he could not see well and tripped over something round, hairy, and possessing two spikes. His mistress sighed and pointed at something on the floor and gave the order to lift. Unable to tell what was the target of her command, he felt around and pulled a body on to his shoulder. A feeling of disgust came over him when he realized that the corpse he was now carrying was too small to be an adult's body. His mistress walked out of the cave and pointed at the body of the escaped slave. Outside the cave and back in the moonlight, he dropped the body on his shoulder on top of the escaped slave. The disgusted feeling multiplied when he saw the body he just dropped was missing its head. On his return to the still too dark cave, he heard his mistress repeat her previous command. She was deep in the cave, making metallic tapping noises and generating short-lived sparks of light. Lacking a target, he started to feel around in the dark and put his hand into something wet. He continued his search, finding another small body. After adding that headless corpse to the growing pile, he looked at his hand and noticed that it was covered in maroon blood. After cleaning his hand, he returned to the cave, this time it was lit by a small fire in back. With the light provided by it, he was able to quickly clear the cave of the remaining bodies and their heads. Once finished, his mistress rolled a boulder to block the entrance and plugged any large gaps around it with smaller stones. Through the remaining gaps he could see the red star of this world rising.

He was about to find a place to sleep when he heard call of a previous unknown beast. He looked back through the gaps and saw dozens of red glowing eyes gathered around the corpse pile. As the red-eyed scavengers continued with their feeding calls, more and more of the red glowing eyes kept arriving. Soon, there were hundreds of the little fiends feasting on the bodies. Still more arrived, causing the horrid feast to quickly turn into feeding frenzy. Once the corpses were completely consumed, the scavengers turned on one another and whenever one of them fell to the ground the swarm would cannibalize the victim. For nearly an hour, the surreal feeding carried on. It only stopped when the light from the rising red sun started to illuminate the scene. Then, as quickly as they appeared, the red-eyed scavengers ran off into the distance.

He turned from the crack he was looking through and noticed his mistress was behind him. She waved him away, unblocked the cave entrance, and commanded him out of the cave. He obeyed and stepped into the light, and for a moment basked in the red star's warmth. A quick tug on his metal leash broke his reverie. He focused on his mistress and saw that she was now pointing at what was left of the corpse pile. He walked over and examined what the red-eyed scavengers left. It was not much, just a bunch of muddy bones. His mistress spoke the command for him pick up. Trying to understand her order, he picked up a bone. She responded by ordering him to drop it. He did and looked, confused, at his mistress. She started to order him about the area in front of the cave. As this odd game of hot and cold carried on, he could hear the frustration building in his mistress's voice. Worried that he was about to get beaten, he failed to pay attention to where he was going and blundered into the pile of muddy bones. He kicked something hefty and heard a metallic clank. He reached for the source of the sound and picked up the now mud covered axe the escaped slave had. In their haste to clean out the cave, neither bothered to pick it up. He now understood that this was what his mistress had sent him out to get. He heard the command for him to approach and the chain being pulled, but the spiked collar on his neck did not move. He looked down and saw, due to his meanderings, the chain to his collar was tangled on a small spur of rock sticking out of the ground. Knowing that the strange folk were nocturnal and avoided the light, he pondered why she ordered him to get the axe. 

Suddenly and with a wicked smile, the thought that his mistress could not tolerate the light of the red star came to him.

He started to perform the same mocking ritual that she had used on him many times in the past. Instantly there was a reaction from his mistress and it was not a happy one. Her tugging on the chain and the tone of her voice became more and more forceful. When he started to pretend to damage the axe, his mistress finally snapped. With a terrible scream, his mistress stomped out of the cave into the light and shattered the rock that the chain was tangled on with a single kick. Then, with that all too familiar look of utter hatred, she began to reel in the chain slowly.

What followed was the second worst beating of his life.

The rigors and hardships he had previously endured enabled him to remain consciousness throughout the ordeal. As his mistress slowly dragged him back into the cave by his foot, he thought about what he learned from this experience. That his mistress's patience was limited and her bare handed attacks were quite powerful, if a bit uncoordinated. Like the yellow blooded slave, she had difficulties seeing him in the morning light. Also, the strange folk could withstand their red sun, for a little while. Based on the grunts of pain she made with her every movement, he guessed she was suffering from a bad sunburn.

Once both of them were back in the cave, his mistress blocked the entrance with the large boulder, sat next to the fire, and scowled at him as she tried to rest. He was not badly hurt, just a split lip, a bloody nose, and countless bruises. These injuries proved to him that her assault was intended to be punitive in nature. There was no doubt in his mind that she possessed the raw strength to kill him with her bare hands. He didn't bear any hard feelings towards his mistress. As He knew he had provoked her and watching his mistress struggling trying to sleep filled him with a sense of remorse. Somehow, not having the words to apologize only intensified this feeling he felt. Eventually, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

He woke to the sound of stone grinding on stone. Still sleepy, he looked towards the sound and saw his mistress unblocking the entrance of the cave. She only rolled it partially out of the way. Through the gap made by his mistress he could clearly see that night had fallen. He knew something was amiss, she had never let him sleep in before. Standing up, he continued watching his mistress slip past the boulder and put it back into the entrance, thus blocking the cave again and leaving him alone. As he watched her disappear into the brush and trees to hunt for the night, he felt rejected. Though he hated it at first, he now enjoyed the thrill of tracking, stalking, killing, and eating his meals. Lacking anything else to do, he examined the fire. It was little more than glowing coals, but in the dim light provided by them he could see there was some firewood near by. He knew that if stoked the fire, his mistress would surely notice. Instead, he grabbed the largest piece of firewood and tied the used bandages from his leg onto it, producing a makeshift torch. Once it was alight, he began to explore the cave. Looking up, he saw that the fire was built below a natural opening in the roof of the cave.

Searching further, he came upon a passage that lead into another chamber. On one wall he saw a series of niches, big enough someone to sleep in, cut into the wall. On the next wall he saw a bunch of figures of the strange folk. These were just two steps above stick figures in quality. Most had a black "X" drawn over them, others had a black line drawn on their neck, only a few were unmarred. Looking through the multitudes of figures he came across one figure with a black line on her neck that bore a strong resemblance to his mistress. The more he looked at this particular figure the more he became convinced that this was the case. In his mind, there was no mistaking that pair of hat skewering horns anywhere. After another examination of the figure wall, he saw a figure that appeared to be the escaped slave. This figure also had a black line on its neck and was crossed out too. He touched the black "X" that ran over the escaped slave's figure and got black soot on his fingertips. He understood that this was a fresh alteration made by his mistress and that the black "X"'s were indications of whom had died.

He turned from the figures and looked at the third wall. This one was anointed in odd lines and squiggles. After a few minutes of pondering, he saw something that caused everything on this wall to make sense. An upside "V" with smoke coming out of it, a volcano. Near it was a representation of the ruins that he had arrived in. Recognizing that this was a map of the region, he traced the paths that he and his mistress traveled. Soon, he was able to identify the various landmarks and refuges that he and his mistress visited on their travels. He started examining areas he had yet to visit and made an awful discovery. It was a village or town based on the lines spreading from it and like the figures on the previous wall, it too was crossed off. He started followed the road from this destroyed settlement and found another settlement, also razed. A bad feeling began to build in him as he followed the road across the map on the wall. Each town, village, and settlement along the way had a "X" through it and with each discovery his heart pounded harder. Bringing the torch closer to where the road ended near the next wall, he saw a white butterfly symbol. He started to calm down when he noticed that this symbol was not crossed out.

Then in the corner of his eye, he saw there was one of the strange folk in attack posture next to him.

Instantly and instinctively, he swung his torch at the figure and hopped backwards with his guard up. The expected counter-attack never came. Slowly, he inched back to where he last saw the mysterious figure. It was still there, but as more and more of the torch's light illuminated the figure the less and less real it became. 

It was a life sized rendering of one of the strange folk on the fourth wall of this room. Exploring with his torch, he examined this well detailed image closely. Although its face was obscured by spiderwebs, but the rest of the figured was dressed in silk-like flowing clothes and jewelery adorned nearly every patch of visible skin. The figure held in its hands, in a fighting stance, an odd looking gem encrusted golden trident that had tines on both ends. He guessed that this image was of someone very important based on the fine details and colors. Curious at what the figure was fighting, he walked along the wall a few steps and discovered another life sized figure. This one was drawn in a cartoonish manner meant to lampoon the subject. This figure was dressed in rags and wielded a double headed trident much like previous figure, except this one was warped and bent. He suffered a fit of laughter when he got his first look at the goofy facial expression of this figure. Once he recovered, he noticed that this figured had fins and a small pair of horns on their head. The figure's eyes caught his attention next, they were mostly grey with a bit of fuchsia. He returned to the previous image and began to remove the spider webs so he could get a better look at its face. First, a large pair of horns were revealed. Next, the fins of this figure, which were decorated with gold rings, became exposed. Then, eyes with solid fuchsia pupils showed themselves. Finally, with the complete removal of the spiderwebs, a big black "X" appeared on the head of this image.

His mind reeled at what his cleaning uncovered. As far he could tell, there had been power struggle among the strange folk and the eventual loser was clearly marked. Based on the amount of spider webs he cleared away, this event had happened years ago. The number of destroyed settlements on the map wall hinted at the sheer scale of the conflict or the punishment for not kowtowing to the new regime. His second search of it revealed there were only few intact settlements left and those were isolated from each other. The wall with the multitude of small figures told of massive casualties and the fates of the few who rebelled. This cave, he reasoned, served as a safe house. Base on what he saw on the map wall, it was far from anything interesting. Furthermore, the red-eyed scavengers would make camping in this area hazardous. His mind wandered to his mistress and why she had such low standing among her peers. The answer came quickly to him, she had made the mistake of fighting for the losing side. Next, he saw the death of the escaped slave in a new light. The fewer people who knew of this cave, the safer he and his mistress would be.

After getting lost in his own thoughts for several minutes, he noticed the torch he carried as getting dimmer. He started to leave this chamber, but stopped when he felt one of the stones that made up the large figure wall give a little when his hand caught the corner of it. Intrigued, he pulled the flat stone back enough to stick the torch into the hollow space behind it. In the dim light of the torch he saw two metal kettles. One decorated with a heart, another with a spade. His intuition told him that he did want to know what was in the two vessels. He pushed back the stone and made his way back to the main chamber.

He waited for the torch to burn out. Then, he broke of the burnt end and threw that piece into the fire. The unburnt portion of the torch was returned to the firewood pile. He spent an hour looking through the gaps between the entrance of the cave and the boulder blocking it. Suffering boredom while waiting for his mistress, he tried to move the boulder by himself. He discovered that he only strong enough to move it slightly before tiring. Once exhausted, he laid down and rested.

Eventually, the sound of stone grinding on stone announced the return of his mistress. Again, she moved the blocking boulder just enough to get past it and block the entrance with it again. Then, his mistress walked over to the now dead fire with her kill. She rebuilt the fire and started roasting parts of her kill. The smell of cooked meat made him salivate. Once some of the meat was ready, his mistress dangled some in front of him for a bit before devouring the morsel. After the third round of this food based psychological torture, he knew that he was not getting anything to eat from her tonight. He laid down to rest some more, then wrapped his arms around his ears in an attempt to muffle the exaggerated sounds of enjoyment she made.

Finally, the red-eyed scavengers made their rounds and left with the arrival of the morning. Finished with her meal, his mistress unblocked the cave, forced him out, and blocked the entrance again. He watched her lie down and begin to sleep through one of the gaps around the boulder. He was outside and alone.

Both hungry and thirsty, he looked at the ground and noticed the tracks left by his mistress. Hoping that the tracks would solve one of his current issues, he followed them towards the brush and trees. He stopped suddenly and looked back at the cave entrance. This was the first time he ever ventured beyond his mistress's sight. His mind wrestled with concerns about his personal safety and his immediate needs. In the end, hunger and thirst were stronger motivators than the fear of the unknown. Taking a deep breath, he took his first steps into the brush. The path left by his mistress was easy enough to follow. All he needed to do was follow the trail of destruction she had left behind. Hacked up bushes, broken tree branches, and other destroyed vegetation all marked her passing. The trail turned sharply and lead upwards. The possibility that his mistress meant for him to follow this path was not lost on him.

After hiking up the trail for a few minutes, he entered a meadow. There was a small fog shrouded pond in the middle of it. He quickly ran to the edge of the pond and knelt. As he drank from his cupped hands his thoughts turned to how the pond was replenished. As far as he could tell, there were no streams or springs nearby. The answer hit him in the form of a droplet of water. Looking up, he noticed there were several tree limbs that hung over the pond. On the branches were many droplets of water forming due to the fog condensing on them. Every now and again, one of the droplets would fall into the pond. He was thankful for a reliable source of water, as it meant that he would not have to resort to drinking the blood of the creatures or consuming his own urine for the foreseeable future.

Once his thirst was quenched, he heard a familiar growling. Following the sound, he discovered an odd circular stone with a hole in the middle of it poking up out of the ground. The inside of hole was black and a layer of soot coated the inner surface. This, he realized, was a chimney and the growling coming from it was his mistress enduring her usual nightmares. Now aware that he was above the cave, he felt the temptation to drop a rock down the chimney as a prank. But, the memory of his latest beating by his mistress prevented such mischief. Instead, he climbed the tallest tree to get a better view. A grand vista of the surrounding area greeted his eyes and he identified several landmarks to keep himself from getting lost. Leading off into the distance, he could see a trail left by his mistress. Having no other ideas, he descended from the tree and started following her path.

After an hour of hiking, he recognized a peculiar buzzing sound. He identified the source of the noise as one of the dog sized beetles he had eaten before. They were not the tastiest thing around, but in his current state of hunger it would have to do. Stone knife at the ready, he stalked closer to where he heard the beetle. Upon seeing it however, his heart sank. This beetle was just a juvenile, barely larger than a dachshund. Realizing that eating something is better than nothing, he advanced on the unsuspecting prey. He was about plunge the stone knife into the beetle's vulnerable spot, when he noticed that it was feeding on an odd looking fruit. He recalled trying to eat one of these disgusting tasting things on the trip to the communal camp site. Looking closer he noticed that the beetle was not eating the flesh of the fruit, but the seed instead. His curiosity piqued, he stole the morsel from the beetle and took a nibble. The seed had a flavor akin to a walnut. After keeping it in his mouth for several minutes, he sensed there were no swelling or other problems. Figuring that the risk of being poisoned was worth it, he swallowed. He watched the beetle crawl towards another "fruit" while he waited for any symptoms of gastric distress to appear.

None did.

He peeled and consumed ten of the seeds to sate his hunger. Then, inspiration struck him. He picked up the beetle and started to carry it around. Ignoring the beetle's hissing, he found more vegetation that he had previously rejected and gave samples to the beetle. He watched carefully as his newly found food taster picked out the edible parts. Once the beetle finished, he duplicated the dissection of the vegetable matter with the aid of his stone knife. He spent most of the day experimenting and when the red star reached the horizon he had a mental catalog of various plants compatible with his omnivorous nature. Before returning the cave, he brought back a few more of the seeds he consumed earlier and beetle. When he arrived at the cave, he saw the entrance was unblocked. Knowing that his mistress would force him to eat it, he shoved the beetle into a crevice and blocked its escape with a large rock.

He entered the cave noisily crunching one of the seeds in his mouth, which his mistress noticed instantly. She approached him and stared at him with the same disbelieving stare she gave him when he set the feral child free. Knowing that he had messed yet up again, he started chewing faster. There was a brief struggle as his mistress tried to force his mouth open. Defiantly, he swallowed his meal just as she got her fingers into his mouth. His mistress ran her fingers down his throat, chest, and stopped at his stomach. The feeling of victory was short lived and he started to worry that she might induce vomiting by externally pumping his stomach. After many tense minutes, his mistress calmed down. Guessing that he was not in trouble, he turned around started eating yet another seed. His mistress did not seem to react in the slightest. He finished chewing and was about to swallow when, suddenly, he felt her hand around his throat.

He tried to swallow the contents of his mouth, but the strength of his mistress's grip prevented him. She patiently waited with a smug look on her face. Soon enough, his gag reflex forced him to reveal his meal. With her other hand, his mistress scooped the masticated material from his mouth and brought the mass to her nose and sniffed. Then, much to his disgust, his mistress returned his meal by putting it back into his mouth. Stuck playing the role of a beast, he swallowed. Mystified, he wondered what was the point of her actions. His best theory was that she was making sure what he was eating was safe. Yawning, he decided not think too much about what just transpired and laid down to sleep. He briefly woke up when his mistress left for her nightly hunt. He noticed that she took the axe with her. With quick glance at the nearly exhausted woodpile, he understood why. Still tired, he went back to sleep.

He was awakened by the toe of his mistress's boot. She gave the command to follow and left the cave. Groggily, he followed her. Outside the cave, he saw that there was only a hint of color on the horizon. His mistress pointed over to a medium tree trunk. She began to demonstrate what she wanted him to do with the axe. He already knew how to chop wood into kindling, but he knew better than to reveal that to his mistress. Instead, he kept playing the role of an ignorant beast and he nearly drove her to the breaking point several times during the lesson. In the end, he processed enough wood to restock the woodpile in the cave before the red-eyed scavengers made their early morning visit.

Once she restarted the fire, he saw that she had dragged the kills from her hunt into the cave before waking him. His mistress pulled out metal knife as if to start the skinning lesson. Except this time, she only pointed at the carcass. Quickly, he guessed that her goal was to get him to complete the skinning process by himself. But, the temptation to mess with her got the better of him. He skinned half of the carcass like he had done many times before and stopped. This caused his mistress to roll her eyes and let out an exasperated groan. She rotated the half skinned body around so the other half was facing him. Not wanting to try her patience a second time, he finished the skinning operation. He began to work on the remaining kills while his mistress butchered the skinless carcass and cooked the meat from it. Once he finished his work, she gave him several portions of cooked meat. After their meal was finished, his mistress grabbed his leash and began to work him through all the commands he knew. He obeyed, but wondered what purpose this drilling was serving. 

Once she was satisfied that he had not forgotten any commands, she sent him out of the cave and pointed at the axe and the tree trunk. He spent the better part of the day chopping wood. Once finished with that chore, he checked on the beetle he stashed away the previous night. Unfortunately, the red-eyed scavengers managed to find the beetle. All that was left of it was parts of its shell. He picked up a chitinous segment to examine and was surprised at the resilient properties of the beetle's carapace. Then, another piece of the beetle's shell caught his eye. Recalling the Behemoth's bow, he took the stalk from tall growing grass and tied that to this curved bit of shell. Next he made a crude arrow from a stick and tried to fire it. It only traveled a few feet, but the tiny crude bow worked!

Next, his thoughts turned to his stone knife. Its edge had slowly become dulled from regular use. Rather than risk shattering it in an attempt to resharpen it, he decided to try making a new knife. Finding obsidian was easy, as he was practically tripping over it. Shaping it into a useful shape was much harder than he had anticipated. After several cut fingers and skinned knuckles, all he had to show for his efforts were a few small razor sharp wedges. When he held these between his thumb and forefinger, he discovered that these small pieces of obsidian made effective cutting tools. Noticing that night was approaching, he returned to the cave to sleep.

This night played out like the one before. First, his mistress returned from her hunt. Next, he skinned the kills from her hunt. Then, a meal. After that, she repeated the command drills. Finally, in the morning, he chopped wood. Day after day played out in this manner. Any free time he got was spent learning how to work obsidian. Once that skill was mastered, he started making spears and knives from volcanic glass. With these weapons, he started venturing further from the cave and hunting larger prey. Eventually, he found and killed enough mature beetles to construct a bow. The bow and the obsidian tipped arrows he made gave him the confidence to travel even further from the cave. In order to keep up appearances, he hid his weapons from his mistress.

While he was happy for some sort stability in his life, his mind kept wondering why was his mistress was drilling him on commands he already knew and the meaning of words he overheard at the communal camp. After what seemed months of this routine, he suddenly recalled the merchant's lack of interest in his physique. He looked down at his arms and chest. In all this time of chopping wood and hunting, he had not noticed the development of his muscles. In an instant, he understood why his mistress drilled him every day.

She was going to sell him.


	6. Strife!

This realization caused him to lose his grip on the axe in mid swing. Instantly, his mind started to conjure up terrible visions of his future. He picked up the axe to resume chopping wood, but with these images of doom in his head, his work suffered. Every swing of the axe seemed to bring him closer to the moment where he would be forced to part ways with his mistress and become the property of another one of the strange folk. By the time his mistress awoke in the late afternoon, he had processed a mere fraction of his usual amount of firewood and when she saw the available kindling for the night, she glared at him. He knew he was in trouble again. Seeing as he had nothing more to lose, he defiantly dropped the axe in the daylight just an inch out of her reach. Then, he walked up the path to the pond for a drink and to mentally prepare himself for whatever punishment his mistress had in store for him.

Unlike his usual morning visits to the pond, there was no fog obscuring its surface this late evening. When he knelt at the edge of the pond, he saw something in its still surface. It took him several minutes to accept the half feral creature he observed was his own reflection. Examining the body of his reflected self, he saw that the rugged lifestyle he had endured gave him the physique that would make most athletes envious. Next, his eyes focused on the face of his reflection. He had more facial hair now and that reminded him of the time spent on this savage world. He had no way knowing for sure, but intuitively he sensed that his birthday had passed him by recently. Which, in turn, caused him to start thinking of the things he had taken from him: his birthday present, his hat, and his freedom. These thoughts only made his mood worse. To him, this world and the beings that lived here seemed to thrive on taking. He closed his eyes when idea of taking his freedom back entered his mind. For that to happen, he reasoned, he would have to kill his mistress. Running away was not a possibility, as she would easily track him down if he tried. He asked himself if he had the will to murder her. He received the answer to that question when he opened his eyes, lifted his hair, and looked back at his reflection in the pond. The innocent eyes he once had were no longer there. As he drank from his cupped hands, a cold feeling ran through his body. Standing up, he noticed the red star of this world would soon set enough to allow his mistress to come looking for him. He quickly returned to the cave entrance to face what awaited him.

On his return, he saw that his mistress had ventured from the cave and started chopping wood. On her face was the now too familiar look of hatred and based on how she was swinging the axe, she was using that peculiar gift of hate fueled strength her people shared to rapidly process the tree trunk into kindling. Undaunted, he walked up and then around his mistress and waited. Once she finished with axe, the hateful look his mistress wore melted into mere annoyance. She grabbed the chain that lead to the spiked collar around his neck and began the command drill exercises that they have practiced for the past few months, with two changes. First, his mistress was no longer giving him two or three seconds to comply with her order. Every command she spoke was instantly followed by a sudden jerk of the chain. Second, the command drill sessions usually only lasted several minutes. This session kept dragging on. One hour turned into two and then three.

A particularly vicious yank of the chain to his collar by his mistress sent him into the ground. She gave order for him to stand, which he obeyed. Rising up, he felt there was wetness on his neck. After touching the sensation, he looked at his fingers and saw that they were covered with his blood. Anger exploded inside him and for a brief moment he forgot the role he was supposed to be playing. With bared teeth, he screamed at his mistress. Her response was unexpected. Instead of dishing out another savage beating, she instead smiled maliciously and spoke two contradictory commands: "Stand" and "sit". Confused, he started to sit down since he was already standing. His reward was a stinging welt delivered by the flat side of his mistress's sword. Again, she repeated the two conflicting commands. This time he got up and, again, was given another stinging welt. Wondering what was his mistress's intentions were, he searched for insight regarding her actions. Since he was no longer afraid of this world and could provide for himself, she needed a new means of controlling him before selling him. When his mistress gave another pair of impossible to execute commands: "Stay" and "Go", her goal became clear to him. His mistress intended to break his spirit.

An odd blend of anger and desperation overcame him as the thought of enduring these abuses for another minute became unbearable. All concerns about his personal safety were abandoned as death suddenly became an acceptable option. Furthermore, the fact that his mistress was clearly enjoying his suffering only strengthened his resolve. He stared directly into his mistress's eyes and spoke a single word in the language of the strange folk. It was the word that he overheard his mistress and the merchant use repeatedly during their barter session. It was also the same word the slaves whispered to him when he freed the feral child from its cage. By his mistress's reaction, he instantly knew he had finally guessed its meaning.

That word was "No".

It was obvious to him that his vocalization had nearly pushed his mistress into unthinking rage. She sheathed her sword and screamed the command for "Sit". He repeated his previous refusal and felt the spikes of his collar driven into the back of his neck as his mistress wrenched the chain downwards. He remained standing defiantly and continued to stare at her. Each additional command she tried was met with the same response, which in turn, was met with same punishment. Eventually, his mistress snapped. She released the chain and grabbed his collar with both of her hands. Then, his mistress began to squeeze the inward facing spikes of his collar into his neck all the while screaming various commands at the top her voice. He knew she was going to kill him and that it was a matter of time before one the spikes of his collar punctured something vital.

Acting on instinct, he reached down toward his mistress's waist. Where, one of his hands found, pulled her sword from its sheath, and swung the weapon with all his might at her head. At the last possible moment, his mistress caught the blade of her sword with her hand. For a few minutes they looked at each other, both with looks of surprise on their faces. There was no other sound except the dripping of his mistress's green blood onto the ground from where her sword bit into the meat of her hand. Eventually, his mistress looked, first, at her injured hand. Then, at the blade her sword. Next, at its hilt and his hand that gripped it. Finally, back at him. He could tell that his mistress understood that he just tried to kill her by the way her eyes narrowed into two hateful slits.

What followed was the worst beating of his life.

When his mistress finally walked away from him, he was face-down on the ground and wheezing for breath. He tried to piece together as much of the beating he could. For the first ten minutes or so he evaded her assault well enough, but that seemed only to enrage his mistress further. Once his stamina began to wane, more and more of her punches and kicks began to land. Like the new obedience training session before, this savage beating dragged on and on. Even after he reached the point of complete exhaustion, he recalled being thrown around like a rag doll by her. Everything else faded into a painful fog as a result of a nasty punch to the head. His head throbbed with pain and he could still see stars in his vision. Still too tired and beat up to do anything else, he turned his body onto its side and started examining his injuries. The tissues around one of his eyes had swelled to the point where he could barely see out it and his nose was bleeding, possibly broken. Since he could still wiggle his toes, he was thankful that he was not paralyzed. But, further examination of his legs revealed that both of them bore the brunt of his mistress's assault.

He heard his mistress enter the cave and block the cave entrance with the boulder. Rolling over onto his back, he wondered if she had finally given up on him and, in her unique way, given him back his freedom. Looking at the cave entrance he could see his mistress angrily looking back at him through the gap. He tried to get his legs under him, but his legs were so battered and bruised that it was too painful for him to stand. Looking to towards the horizon, he saw the red star dawning, bringing with it morning. Suddenly, he understood that the answer to his previous question was no and that his mistress had one final technique left to break his spirit with. Her plan to let the red-eyed scavengers swarm him and that his immobilization was another part of it. Then, after enough body-parts have been torn from him, she would come to the rescue thereby recreating the mental state of dependency he had when they first met. The brutal nature of his mistress's scheme disgusted him and he became filled with an all consuming hatred her, her people, and her world. Following that hate came a deep and profound anger.

He focused on what he still had available: His arms still worked, the red-eyed scavengers would not make their pass for a while, and there was a tree with a low-hanging branch in the distance. He reasoned that If he could make it to that branch, he would be safe. He took a few deep breaths to prepare for the long crawl. He rolled back onto his belly and began pulling himself towards the tree. His anger gave him the energy to keep going and helped him push through the pain in his legs that each pull towards the tree delivered. That pain enraged him further, thus completing a surreal feedback loop. Through the fog of exhaustion he was only dimly aware of the screams he made with every pull.

He was only a few body lengths away from the tree when he heard a chilling, but familiar feeding call. From behind the tree emerged two red glowing eyes. The scavenger ran up to him a began to sniff at him. Up close, he saw that these scavengers combined the worst aspects of rats and chihuahuas. He ignored the scavenger and continued pulling himself towards sanctuary. There was no time to do otherwise as he heard more feeding calls off in the distance. He listened to the lone scavenger warily circle him as he readied himself for its attack. He barely felt the needle-like teeth of the scavenger as it bit the boot his foot was in. The creature did not tear his flesh, instead it latched onto him with pit-bull like tenacity. With his next effort towards safety, he felt the additional weight of the scavenger being dragged. Suddenly, the hunting strategy of this scavenger became clear to him. It was slowing him down so the others could catch up.

After he pulled himself another half body length closer towards safety, he felt another set of needle-like teeth latch onto his other foot. Struggling against the weight of two scavengers, he noticed that he was digging trenches in his attempts to move. Realizing he was stuck, he reached into the waistline of the tattered remains of his jeans for his stone knife. Next, he plunged it into the ground as far forward as he could. Then, with both hands around the stone blade, he pulled himself another half body length closer to the tree. Two more scavengers came from behind the tree, circled warily around his upper torso, and latched on to both of his calves. Again and again, he pulled himself forwards with the aid of the stone knife, slowly winning this macabre tug of war.

As he neared the low-hanging branch, his ears picked up a chorus of feeding calls. Knowing that most of the swarm was now closing in on him, he plunged the stone knife before him for the final half body length of distance. He felt the stone knife impact on a hidden stone in the soil and shatter. He tried to push himself up to grab the low-hanging branch, but his fingers could only barely touch it. Hearing the swarm converging on him, he hurled the metal chain attached to his collar over the branch and caught the other end of the metal leash as it swung towards him. Making a test pull on the chain, he felt the inward facing spikes of his collar bite into the back of his neck. He knew what he was about to do was risking fatal injury, but he saw no other options. Screaming, he hauled himself and the four red-eyed fiends still latched on to him up into the tree.

Heart pounding, he watched as the pairs of red glowing eyes below him steadily increased in number. He climbed higher when he realized that he did not know how high the scavengers could jump. Finally feeling safe, he rested until he noticed wet sensation running down from his neck. Lacking any cloth to stop the bleeding, he resorted to what he had available. Painfully, he pulled a leg onto the branch he sat on and carefully reached into his boot. Taking great care not to cut himself or his boot, he fished out a razor sharp wedge of obsidian. Next, he grabbed a fistful of his hair and cut it off. Then, he applied the mass of hair to the injuries on his neck. It took several handfuls to stanch his bleeding. As a result, his impromptu haircut liberated his vision and hearing from twelve months of hair growth.

He felt awakened as previously unnoticed sights and sounds made themselves known and the thought that he was becoming a part of this world came to him. The very idea that he could forsake his world for this one caused him to rebel against that feeling and reignited the fading anger in him. He looked at the scavengers still latched onto him and with the obsidian cutting wedge, he started to free himself from them surgically. After quick cut to their jaw muscles, he bled three of scavengers on to the swarm below him to drive it into a cannibalistic frenzy. When he reached for the fourth scavenger, it released its bite on his boot, found its footing on the branch, and lunged for his face. He caught the creature by its throat and furiously beat the scavenger against the tree until it stopped moving, draped its body over a branch and rested until the morning chased away the swarm.

After nearly falling out of the tree, he tried standing again. He was able, but he could only walk with the help of a small branch. He focused on his immediate needs: water, food, wounds, weapons, and sleep. Since a full day had passed from the last time he slept, he was not sure how long he would sleep. So, he decided that he would take care of his other problems first. A trip to the pond slaked his thirst and the local flora fed him. Then, he treated the bites on his legs with the maroon plant. Although the boots his mistress made protected his legs, the scavengers still managed to pierce his skin. Next, He recovered his spear, bow, and arrows from their hiding place. With everything taken care of, he rested with his back on the boulder his mistress used as a door. He reasoned that if he overslept, then any movement of boulder should wake him. It was noon when he finally drifted off to sleep.

He awoke hungrily to the smell of cooking meat. Looking at horizon, he knew that his mistress would emerge in a few hours. He eyed the carcass he left in the tree and wonder if it would taste good after being roasted. All he knew about traditional fire building was that it involved friction and lots of it. He gathered some tinder and kindling from where he had been cutting firewood. Realizing that he was going to get one bow shot at his mistress, he dismantled one of his spare arrows for its shaft. Next, he made a small bow from curved stick and a small strip of leather and looped that around the shaft from the arrow. Using a stone with a depression in it to press the shaft into a piece of kindling, he sawed the small bow back and forth. This action soon generated a small cloud of smoke, but no fire. He knew he was close and tried again and again. With each failure he became angrier and began to scream in frustration.

Suddenly, he felt like he was being watched and he looked at the cave entrance to see his mistress looking at him. Unconcerned, he piled all his tinder into a mound, put a piece of kindling on top of the mound, and resumed his fire building experiment. This time he did not stop when he saw smoke. Instead, he continued until he felt warmth through his boot. Carefully examining the smoking mound of tinder, he blew air into it until he saw flames burst from it. Excited, he built up his fire by feeding it ever larger pieces of kindling. Satisfied with his cooking fire, he stood up and started walking towards the tree to retrieve the scavenger's carcass from it. He did not get very far before freezing.

Behind him, he heard the boulder being moved!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Scavenger's Theme" - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sDnaOyyxWjE&t=3m19s  
> 3:19 to 3:50


	7. Pale

He quickly grabbed his bow, notched an arrow, and assumed an archer's stance. Drawing fully on his bow, he watched as his mistress emerged from behind the boulder and stay in the shade of the cave entrance. At this range, he knew he could not get a kill shot on her so he chose to patiently wait and watch his mistress's eyes for hint on what her next actions would be. First, she focused on the fire he had just created, then on the bow and arrow in his hands, and finally at him. Behind his mistress's eyes, he could see that she was trying to put all the facts about him together. Then, by the dawning horror on his mistress's face he could tell that she finally understood he was not as he appeared to be. He held his fire, anticipating his mistress's hatred at his long-term deception and her resulting rage induced charge. He aimed at the center of her upper torso, hoping for a fatal injury and a quick end to this battle.

His mistress closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, then she stepped into the light and started to approached him slowly. Her actions caused him wonder what she was doing. While she was reducing the distance between them, this was not the charge he required. If he fired his bow now, he knew that his mistress would hear the sound of his bow string and easily dodge. Realizing that he had no other choice, he held his fire and watch for any sudden movements she might make towards her sword. His mistress continued her slow advance and once she was in a few arm lengths, she began to shush him. Although he was still angry at her, he knew his mistress was not duplicitous. She had shown her emotional state plainly in the past and, now, he saw no traces hostility or aggression on her face and in her movements. He suppressed his urge for revenge and waited. Once she completely closed the distance between them, his mistress reached out with one hand and started to lightly stroke his face. He only needed a few seconds to understand what was going on. As far as he could tell, his mistress now believed he was one of the strange folk and was now using the same calming ritual on him that he observed being used on the hot headed hunters in the communal camp site so long ago. After a few more minutes, she opened her eyes. He saw no anger or hate, but something new, pity.

His mistress spoke to word for "come" in a surprising respectful tone and walked back towards the cave. He followed and after he squeezed back into the cave, she fully blocked the entrance again. His mistress sat next to the fire in the cave and spoke the word for "sit". Once he joined her, his mistress tried to converse with him. He was unable to understand even a mere fraction of her stream of words. Eventually, he shook his head in frustration, spoke the word for "stop", and pointed at her mouth. Something in his first attempt at communication caught his mistress's attention. She smiled and then pointed at the boots on his feet and spoke a new word. Then, she pointed at her sword and spoke a different word. He thought about the meaning of these two new words and deduced their meaning as, "yours" and "mine". To test this, he pointed to his mistress's clothing and spoke the word for "yours". Next, he pointed to his bow and said the word for "mine". His quick learning pleased his mistress. On a whim, he pointed to the collar on his neck and spoke the word for "yours". She frowned a bit and appeared to be ashamed. She gathered the metal chain that had served as his leash for so very long and put it into one of his hands. Finally, she spoke three words, "no mine, yours."

Understanding his mistress's words, his heart started to beat rapidly. He threw the chain down and tried to pull off his collar with one hand while pointing at his mistress with the other. She frowned and began to shush him again. Realizing his mistress was not going to remove the collar, he pulled the razor sharp piece of obsidian from his boot and raised it to the collar with the intent to cut it off. She caught his hand with the cutting tool in it with one of her hands and with her other hand she resumed stroking his head lightly. Again, the look of pity from before appeared on his mistress face. Gently, she worked the obsidian wedge out of his hand. His mistress seemed frustrated, he could tell she wanted to tell him something, but his ignorance of her people's language prevented that. Suddenly, her eyes lit up and she spoke the word for "stay". Taking his cutting tool with her, his mistress traveled into the other chamber of the cave and, after a few minutes, returned. She gave back his cutting tool and placed something heavy, metallic, and flexible in his lap. He picked the object up and dropped it in revulsion once he recognized it. It was a slave's collar. His mistress picked the collar up and spoke one word, "mine."

She held up the metal collar so he could get a better look at it. The collar of his mistress was badly twisted and at one spot was completely broken apart. Most of inward facing spikes were bent and were stained her blood color. Next, his mistress exposed her neck, wrists, and ankles. All bore horrible scars. He suddenly recalled her image on the wall of small figures and the black mark on her figure's neck. He now understood that the black line on the neck meant enslavement. He looked at his mistress with greater understanding. She was not just a war veteran of the losing side. His mistress was also an escaped slave.

This realization helped him think more rationally. Without a beast's collar on him, the other strange folk would attempt to claim him as their own propriety and he doubted he could survive a different owner. He decided to continue wearing his collar for the foreseeable future and was grateful for his conditional emancipation. He pointed at his stylish, but serviceable hat still impaled on his mistress's horns and watched her frown. Then, he spoke one word in the strange folk's tongue.

"Yours"

His mistress became ecstatic and wrapped her arms around his head and squeezed. His mistress's hug caused his already abused nose to pop painfully and she did not relinquish her hold on him until she heard his pained whimpers. Once he was freed from her strong embrace, he touched the wetness on his upper lip to confirm what he suspected, fresh blood. He showed his bloody fingers to his mistress who then placed her hands over her mouth in embarrassment. Recalling the last time she caused him to bleed, he suppressed his anger and instead, began to laugh at the whole situation. After a few moments, his mistress started laughing as well. Unexpectedly, she opened up her collection of metal tools and pulled a metal rasp out and quickly blunted the teeth of his beast's collar.

Once the mirth subsided, she turned to the fire and began to consume parts of her kill. He waited for several minutes before coming to the realization that his mistress was not going to share anything with him. Since she was not angry at him, he speculated that there had to be another reason for being snubbed. The answer came to him as he contrasted the change in status he held with his mistress. As her beast, she was responsible for his needs. But, as one of the strange folk, only he was responsible for himself. At first this awareness chilled him, but the more he thought about his experiences on this world, the more he understood how well his mistress had prepared him for this moment, even if it was just a byproduct of her greed and laziness.

He got up and walked to the entrance of the cave and looked out through the gap. The scavenger's carcass was still in the tree, and his fire was still burning outside. Hearing his mistress approach, he looked at her and then pointed the boulder. She made motions like she was rolling the boulder and then pointed back at him. Instantly, he understood that she was not going to move the boulder for him. Taking a deep breath, he searched around boulder for points to grab. He recalled being able to shift the boulder a bit before, but now he wondered if he now possessed the strength to move it like his mistress. Finding two suitable handholds, he began to exert himself. First an inch, then another, and finally he felt the great stone roll far enough for him to squeeze past it. Once outside, he looked back at his mistress. Again, she made rolling motions with her hands and pointed at the boulder. The message was now clear to him, he was free to come and go as he pleased, as long as he kept the front door closed. Exhausted by his previous labor, he could not get the boulder back into the opening. Looking around, he found the branch he used to help him walk earlier in the day. Using it as a lever, he was able to block the entrance of the cave to his mistress expectations.

Finally finished with the boulder, he retrieved the carcass of the scavenger out of the tree and brought it back to his fire. After butchering the carcass, he roasted the well tenderized meat on skewers over the fire. While its flavor was not so good, the visceral act of consuming something that had tried to kill and eat him was empowering. In his mind, the question of his survival on this world was now replaced with confidence in his own abilities. As he finished his meal, he started to think about various civilized behaviors he missed most while playing his role as a beast. Bathing was foremost among them.

After making his way up to the dew collecting pond, he sat near the edge of it and leaned over to look at his reflection. His uneven haircut and the blood soaked and matted bunches of hair on his neck gave him the look of a hardened survivor. After a few moments, his curiosity got the better of him and he wondered what his mistress saw right before she stepped into the light and began her approach towards him. Closing his eyes, he focused on the feelings he had when he aimed his arrow at her with lethal intention. When he opened his eyes, what he saw reflected bore an astonishing resemblance to the strange folk themselves, the only exceptions being the coloration of his skin and eyes and his lack of horns.

Disturbed by his reflection, he distracted himself by focusing on his original purpose in coming to the pond. With a handful of water, he began to wash himself. He took great care not to pollute the only source of drinkable water that he knew of. By the third handful of water, he wished that he had a water skin or a hollowed-out horn from some beast to help move water. Inspiration struck him as he looked at the boots on his feet. First, he carefully removed his obsidian cutting tool. Next, he took his boots off and let them air out for a bit. Then, one boot was immersed in the pond and then dumped over his head. Soon, the smell of dried blood was replaced by the smell of sweaty feet. He carefully avoided reopening the wounds on his neck as he continued to wash himself. Once he felt clean, he returned to the cave.

He met his mistress just as she was going out for her nightly hunt. He received a puzzled look from her as he passed her and entered the cave. Once completely inside, his mistress rolled the boulder into its place and set off into night. He did not bother to watch her start her hunt. Instead, he laid down and quickly fell asleep.  
For the first time since arriving on this world, he dreamed of home.

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes were the boots of his mistress. Looking upwards, he noticed she had a strange smile on her face. He sat up, rubbed the sleep from eyes, and wondered how long he had been asleep. He looked around the cave and realized that his mistress managed to return from her hunt, enter the cave, start a fire, and cook her kill without waking him up. Furthermore, the few beams of light streaming around the boulder told him that morning had already arrived. He looked suspiciously at his mistress and wondered for how long she had been creepily watching him sleep. He stood up and started shaking off the remnants of his lethargy. Normally, he was a light sleeper and since coming to this dangerous world even more so. But the combination of exhaustion, injuries, and the lack of sleep had forced him into a deep slumber.

He tried not to remember his dream, but that had the opposite effect. This dream started like every other dream he ever had, with him waking up in a bed dressed in golden pajamas in a room with a window. Then, just like every other dream he ever had, he floated over to the window and gazed at the strange clouds that were viewable from it. Strange images appeared in them, some showing places and events he knew, others showing places and events did not. While it was nice to see home again, he dreaded these dreams because of the possibility he would see places and events that he would then experience while awake and suffer the sensation of deja vu. Because of this, he made it his personal policy to be a light sleeper and to quickly forget everything he could about his dreams.

Seeking a distraction, he looked around the cave and noticed the supply of firewood in the cave needed replenishing. He walked over to the axe and picked it up. As he started walking towards the entrance he was intercepted by his mistress. Gently grabbing the axe from him, she spoke the word for "mine". Confused, he pointed to the nearly empty fire woodpile and made chopping motions. His mistress responded by speaking the word for "no". She repeated those two words as she pointed to nearly everything in the cave, the exceptions being his bow, spear, and arrows. Finally, he understood that he was forbidden to use anything that belong to her.

He walked to the boulder, wrestled his way around it, and put it back into its proper place once he was outside. He satisfied his need for water and food first. Then, he resumed his goal of chopping wood. After searching around, he found large chunk of obsidian which he fashioned into an axe head. Finding a branch that was both suitable and strong enough to be a decent handle took longer. Once he had completed his axe, he returned to the cave and stood before the tree trunk that he had been processing into firewood, took his obsidian axe into both hands, and swung it as hard as he could against the tree trunk. The obsidian axe head exploded into hundreds of razor sharp shards. Stumbling backwards a few steps in shock, he quickly realized that obsidian, while excellent for cutting tools, was not suited for impact tools. He began pulling the shards of obsidian out his legs, body, and face. As he did so, he speculated about adapting his obsidian shaping skills for use with other stones and rocks. He saw several candidates within arms reach that bore a resemblance with the stone knife he had destroyed recently.

The sun was setting by the time he finished his stone axe and started chopping wood. While not as efficient as his mistress's metal axe, his new axe was functional. Pushing himself as he toiled, he stopped only a few times to catch his breath and to inspect his axe for signs of wear. By the time his mistress emerged from the cave, he had produced two days worth of fire wood. She looked at his stone axe, the pile of fire word he had produced, and the tree trunk he had been chopping on, and put her hand over her face. Reading his mistress disapproval, he pointed at the tree trunk and spoke the words for "yours, no?". His mistress responded with a new word.

He picked up half of the fire wood he chopped, entered the cave, and added it to fire woodpile. Behind him he heard his mistress let out a sigh. Baffled, he left the cave, retrieved the remaining fire wood, and returned to the cave. Once back inside, he saw there were now two piles of fire wood in the cave. His mistress pointed at the new pile and spoke the word for "yours". He added the fire wood in his arms to the new pile. Next, he pointed to the old woodpile and spoke the words for "yours, no". Then, he pointed to the new fire woodpile and spoke the word for "mine" and the new word his mistress had used outside. She smiled and repeated the new word. After moments, he guessed the meaning of this new word was "yes".

He laid down in his usual sleeping spot and watched as his mistress left the cave with her axe. Soon, he heard the sound of her chopping wood. Yawning, he started to drift off to sleep while wondering what were her reasons for segregating the wood piles. His best theory he came up with before falling asleep was that his mistress was trying to make him self sufficient. Exhaustion, again, caused him to enter a deep sleep. Once asleep, he had the same dream he always did.

He woke from the dream with his heart pounding. The last image in the clouds that he saw was unmistakable, he was reaching for something on the ground and before him were three recognizable strange folk. To one side was the Merchant holding a beast's collar, to the other was the Overseer with a slave's collar, and In between those two, pointing downward with a green stained hand, was the Behemoth.


	8. The first hunt

He sat up and thought about the dream. Since he was the only human on this world, there was no way of denying that it was himself that he was seeing. Furthermore, the dream had a realness to it that he just could not shake. He closed his eyes and fought against the wave of depression that threatened to overwhelm him. He wondered how he could ever hope to defeat three of the strange folk at once. The answer came to him when his mistress entered the cave from her nightly hunt. Based on all that he knew about her, his mistress had escaped her enslavement and managed survived on her own for quite some time now. All he needed to learn, he reasoned, was her survival knowledge and fighting skills. All he needed to know next was where to begin. 

The answer to that question arrived when he inserted his foot into one of his boots. A stitched seam sewed by mistress so long ago failed as he pulled on his boot. Examining both of his boots, he came to the realization that they had seen a lot walking and soon would need to be replaced. As he mended the seam on his boot, he understood that his new status with his mistress would most likely prevent her from making him another pair. Furthermore, the language barrier between them prevented his mistress from teaching him. The alternative would be to go back to walking barefoot. That was something he really did not want to because of the ever-present thorns and other dangers that made walking hazardous. While searching for a third option, inspiration struck him and he recalled how his mistress made the boots by cutting various shapes out of the hides she had him skin and then joining them together. He reasoned that if he carefully unraveled his mistress's stitching, then his boots would become an excellent template from which to learn from! All he needed was the raw material to work with and the willingness to learn.

He finished repairing his boots and slid them on his feet. Then, he carefully stood up and noticed that the pain from the injuries he had suffered had greatly diminished. Cautiously, he stretched his body and examined the injuries from his ordeal to see if he reopened any. Once satisfied he was not bleeding anywhere, he gathered his tools and weapons and walked over to the boulder that blocked the entrance of the cave. Peeping through the gap around it, he watched the scavengers make their sweep of the area and once morning broke and the area was safe, he grappled with the boulder. Feeling empowered, he refused to be content with just squeezing by it. Instead, he rolled the boulder until the entrance was completely unblocked by it. Once on the other side of the entrance, he worked the boulder back into its place.

While he rested from maneuvering the boulder, he thought about the beasts he had seen and the size of their pelts. The largest beast with a hide he had encountered so far was barely the size of a small dog and those were rare in the areas he usually hunted in. He chuckled at the mental image of himself trying to make some boots from a pile of a hundred or so tiny skins. He realized that to get larger hides he would have to travel beyond the territory of the scavengers. Once he felt rested, he began to jog farther and deeper into the unexplored wilds than he ever did before. Once in a while, he would find a reassuring boot track from his mistress in the dirt. After what seemed several miles of jogging, he found tracks belonging to a beast. Standing beside them, he noticed that the paw prints were as wide as his foot.

With his spear at the ready, he began following the tracks through brush and grass until they came to a stop near a deep gully. Looking down into it, he saw signs of a struggle and long yellow colored streak leading away from the conflict. He stopped and thought about the beast he was tracking. Based on the track he had followed and the vertical drop into the gully, he guessed that he was hunting an ambush predator. Furthermore, the yellow blood trail indicated to him that something was being dragged. He sneaked along the top of the gully as he followed the yellow colored trail below him. Eventually, the yellow bloody trail in the gully below went under an overhang. Cautiously, he laid down on top of the overhang and closed his eyes and listened. The sounds of bones being chewed on reached his ears. Based on the sounds he heard, the ambush predator below him was both unaware and distracted. In order to get a clear shot at it, he circled around and tried several different vantage points from the top of the gully. However, none of them gave him the view he needed and he was forced to slide down into the gully to continue the hunt.

Crawling on his stomach, he approached a small pile of rocks as the breeze carried the scent of fresh blood towards him. Once he reached his destination, he closed his eyes and listened again. He could still hear the beast noisily cracking bones as it continued eating its kill. Confidant that the beast still unaware of him, he put down his spear and most of his arrows, readied his bow, notched an arrow, and drew fully. He raised his head just far enough to catch a glimpse of the beast. The beast's oddly colored hide made identification in the shadow difficult. As the moments passed by, he started to see the outline of the ambush predator in the shadows and was able to discern its head and shoulders. He aimed at what he believed was its neck, fired, and quickly got back behind the small pile of rocks. The pained roar that issued from the ambush predator told him that the obsidian tipped arrow had found its mark. He notched another arrow and listened as the beast searched for its assailant. Suddenly, he felt a change in the breeze that caused the hairs on his neck to stand up. Realizing that the ambush predator would soon catch his scent, he got up into a kneeling position, aimed, and fired a second arrow into it. Then, he threw down his bow and picked up his spear.

When the ambush predator emerged from under the overhang, immediately he noticed that it was as large as himself and it possessed many feline attributes. Instantly the ambush predator went into crouched position. Hoping the same trick would work twice, he planted the butt of his spear against the ground. As it leaped at him, time seemed to slow down and he saw the ambush predator paws nearly double in size as it deployed its retractable claws. He tried to guide the tip of his spear into the ambush predator's lower mouth, but missed. Instead, the spear's obsidian tip glanced off the its lower jaw and pierced the its throat. The shaft of the spear absorbed the ambush predator's impact without shattering and for a few moments the two of them were locked in a stalemate. 

Up close, he stared into its eyes and saw its growing rage. With a sudden fit of fury, the ambush predator began driving the spear deeper into its body. Noticing the diminishing the distance between him and it, he looked around for anything that would prevent himself being killed. By his feet he saw his bow and his remaining arrows. He worked the toe of his boot under one of the arrows and flipped it into the air, caught the tumbling arrow by the nock with one hand, and stabbed it into one of the ambush predator's eyes. In retribution, it scratched its claws along his arm from his elbow to his wrist. Fighting through the pain, he pulled the arrow from the eye of the ambush predator and stabbed it into the other. This time, he was able to avoid its counter attack by releasing both his arrow and his spear, and jumping away.

He watched the blinded ambush predator furiously assaulted the air in all directions and its keen ears searching about. By the green bloody foam coming from the its mouth, he knew it was mortally wounded. All he had to do, he reasoned, was to remain quiet and still. But, as time passed he became amazed at the ambush predator's tenacity and wondered if fury alone was keeping it alive. Again struck by inspiration, he gathered the small stones at his feet and began to toss them around the ambush predator and watched as the its ears focus on the sound the stones made when they landed. After some experimentation, he could get the ambush predator to charge blindly in any direction he wished. Eventually, he grew tired of this macabre game of blind man's bluff and decided to end it with a quick toss of three stones to simulate himself running away. This caused the blinded ambush predator to charge into the side of the gully, thereby ramming his already embedded spear deeper into its body. After a final roar, the ambush predator dropped dead.

He took a moment to reflect. Although wounded on his first real hunt, he felt proud. Again, the feeling of being a part of this world came to him and this time he did not rebel against it. He examined the lacerations on his arm. While they appeared deep, he felt no impairment in the use of his injured limb. To control the bleeding, applied pressure with his other hand and a held the lacerations closed so they could clot. Once his bleeding stopped, he knelt and using his cutting wedge, he started removing the hide from the dead ambush predator. While he was doing so, he began wondering what would life be like to live on this strange world. He was half way through the skinning process when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Behind him he heard a quiet reptilian hiss.

Instantly, he leaped over the half skinned carcass and scrambled up the side of gully as fast he could. Once out of gully, he looked back down and cursed himself when he saw a rather large lizard-like thing feeding on his kill. In his mind, he knew that he just got lucky and the next time he gave this world a chance that it would be the end him. The wetness he felt dripping down his arm told him that his rapid climb out of the gully had reopened the lacerations. Looking again into the gully, he noticed that not only his hard won kill was down there, but his bow, his spear, and cutting tool! He cursed himself a second time, once the realization that he was alone, injured, bleeding, defenseless, and far from his mistress hit him. Frustrated, he picked a nearby large rock with both hands, hurled it down into the gully, and turned to walk back to the cave. Only to turn back again when he heard the impact of the rock was accompanied by an angry hiss. With another look into the gully, he saw the lizard-thing crawling away, dragging its hind legs uselessly leaving behind a yellow blood trail. He slid down to the bottom of the gully, recovered his spear from his kill, and approached the wounded creature.

He understood that in its current injured state the lizard-thing was of little threat to him. However, getting its hide without a dozen or more stab holes in it might be a problem. He circled the crippled lizard-thing, blocked its escape, and repeatedly stabbed for its throat. His obsidian tipped pierced the scaly throat of the lizard-thing with little difficulty. Once the lizard-thing was mortally wounded and its yellow blood began to flow the wounds in its neck, it too suffered a fit of rage that the previous beast had. He easily dodged the frenzied bites of the lizard-thing and climbed up one side of the gully and watched as it tried to do the same in vain. As he watched the lizard-thing spend the last few moments of its life fruitlessly trying to get to him, he wondered how his mistress could so easily slay these beasts. He hoped his problem was a lack of knowing their weak points rather than his lack of hate derived strength. Once the lizard-thing was still, he dragged its carcass back to other one.

First, he stopped the slow, but steady bleeding from his arm. Next, he gathered his weapons and placed so he could abscond with them if he needed to. Then, he resumed removing the hides from the two carcasses. This time, he kept his mind focused on both the sounds around him and the task he was performing. The first hide came off quickly, the second was harder to remove as its thickness and scales stymied his efforts. When, he had most of the lizard-thing's hide ready to be removed, he heard the faint steps approaching from behind. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and, instead, grabbed his weapons leaped over his kill. His stalker turned out to be a juvenile similar to the green blooded ambush predator he killed earlier. A couple of arrows and a single stab from his spear was all it took to dispatch this latest interruption. After he reclaimed his weapons and finished the skinning process, he looked up and noticed that the most of the day was already spent. He understood that if he remained in the gully, he was risking staying out past nightfall and possible encountering something he could not handle. After butchering some meat from his kills, he climbed out of the gully and followed his own tracks back to the cave.

His first attempt at moving the boulder that blocked the entrance to his mistress's cave cause the lacerations on his arm to reopen and to resume bleeding. A frustrated groan escaped his mouth when he realized that the wounds on his arm needed stitches and that he had be the one to perform the surgery. He scouted around the cave, found, picked some of the maroon plants, and ground them into a paste. After a quick trip to the dew pond, he washed the injuries clean, again, taking precautions to prevent fouling of the water supply. Then, biting his lower lip, he began rubbing the maroon paste into the lacerations. The terrible burning sensation from before returned, but due to recent hardships he had endured, the burning pain somehow seemed less severe than before. When he finally made it past the boulder that was blocking the cave's entrance, his mistress was already awake and preparing for her nightly hunt.

He sat down in his usual place and began to lay out the hides he had acquired. His mistress seemed pleased when she noticed the hides from juvenile and the lizard-thing. But, once she saw the hide from the green blooded ambush predator, his mistress became impressed. Experimentally, he showed his mistress his lacerations. She quickly looked the injury over and look back at the hides he brought back seemingly unconcerned. He took a moment to prepare himself for what he was about to do. He only lacked one item for the self surgery, thread. Inspiration struck as he pondered his options. Most of the stitching of his boots where thin strips of hide. But, there were few stitches that were done with a thread made from a strange and clear material. Dreading what needed to be done, he took one of his boots off and started unraveling his mistress's stitching. This activity generated a bewildered look on her face. Once he had several of the clear threads, he tested them for their strength. Then, with the smallest obsidian needle he could fabricate, be began to sew the lacerations on his arm close. As he finished with each laceration, he tied a knot in one end of the strange thread, bit the other end of it, and pulled hard on it to close the wound. The bewildered look stayed on his mistress face throughout the operation. Once finished with all the lacerations, he noticed he still had his mistress's full attention. So, he finished unraveling his boot completely and laid the numerous geometric shapes of the disassembled boot on the green blooded ambush predator's hide and grabbed his cutting wedge.

He about to make his first cut when she suddenly grabbed his hand.


	9. First Crafts

She picked up what was the sole of the disassembled boot, placed it on the hide of the lizard-thing, and spoke the word for "here". He thought about what his mistress was trying to communicate for a few moments and absentmindedly touched the sole of his other boot. While it had worn thin in spots from wear, it was still thicker and firmer than any other part of the boot. Suddenly, he understood the lesson his mistress was trying to teach. He cleared the numerous geometric shapes of the disassembled boot from ambush predator's hide. Then, he carefully ran his hands all over the hide of the lizard-thing examining its overall thickness. He was not surprised that the thickest spot of the hide of the lizard-thing was exactly where his mistress placed the sole of the boot at. From that, it was easy to figure out from which hide to cut out the various parts for his new boot.

The parts that provided traction, protection, or stiffness were taken from the lizard-thing's hide. While pieces that needed to be flexible came out of the hide of the ambush predator. By the time he finish cutting all the pieces out the hides, his mistress had left the cave to hunt, leaving him alone to learn how to stitch the boot together. Knowing that he did not have permission use his mistress's metal tools, he made bone, obsidian, and wood copies of them instead. He worked excitedly through most of the night stopping briefly to cook and eat the meat from his hunt and managed to finish the project just before his mistress returned from her hunt. Although the result of his efforts was the conksuckiest boot he had ever seen, he was proud of his creation. However, once his mistress got her first look at his new boot, she slapped the palm of her hand against her face.

Because of his injury, he decided to remain close to the cave until his arm healed. Most of his time was spent reworking his new boot into something more serviceable and searching for another branch to use as a spear. In his rigorous testing, he rejected numerous candidates until he found one with every desirable trait he was looking for. The most important of which were suitable side branches between the tip and midpoint, so that nothing could run up the spear and try to get him again. Once trimmed and armed with an obsidian tip, the branch became a formidable weapon. He converted his old spear to be useable with only one hand and began to practice with it and his other weapons. Occasionally, he would catch his mistress watching him practice. 

As the week passed, the lacerations on his arm healed leaving scars. He took great care in removing the stitching that had held the wounds closed and preserved the strange thread for future use. After examining his hide supply, he knew he did not have enough material for another boot. Recalling his first hunt, he thought of the problems he had with being insufficiently armed and how that led to the scars on his arm. His solution to this issue was to use his remaining amount of materials to craft a belt, a harness, and a quiver to help carry all of his weapons and arrows. Suited up thusly, he sent off on his second hunt.

His second hunt was far more successful than his first. With the increased supply of arrows that his quiver allowed him to bring with him, he could attempt riskier shots with his bow and many of those shots paid off. Furthermore, his new spear performed wonderfully when he was charged by a horned brown blooded beast. However, even when skewered, the horned beast took many blows from his stone axe before dying and, as a result, much of its hide was useless. Night had fallen by the time he returned to the cave with the spoils of his hunt. His mistress met him outside the cave with a look of relief. Which changed to astonishment when she saw the hides and horns he brought back. Once back in the cave, he cooked and ate his dinner, and slept. In the morning he started to work on his new boot. He finished it by the time night had fallen. Compared to the first boot he made, the second was an improvement. This time, his mistress shook her head at first sight of it. 

With new boots on his feet, he left the cave and began to practice with his stone axe. His recent experience with the horned beast had left him feeling impotent and he focused on channeling as much power as possible into his attacks by making ever wilder swings with his axe. Within the first few swings of his practice session, he lost his balance and fell down. As he got back up, his ears picked up the stifled giggling of his mistress in the cave behind him. He resumed his practice session, but with the next swing of his axe he fumbled and hit one of his knees with it. Although his boot absorbed most of the glancing blow, the pain from the blunt force trauma caused him hop around on one leg while grabbing his knee. His mistress could not contain herself any longer and suddenly burst into laughter. The pain he felt and his mistress's laughter caused him, for a brief moment, to forget his new status with her. With his mind dredging up memories of her past mistreatment of him of not so long ago, he turned toward his mistress and gave her a menacing look. Then, he caught himself and began to feel shame for succumbing to anger and frustration.

He was about to resume practicing with his stone axe when he heard the boulder that blocked the cave entrance moving. His mistress walked in front of him, looked him over thoughtfully, and assumed a fighting stance. Next, she pointed to her feet and then to his. Understanding what his mistress wanted, he adjusted his stance to match hers until she seemed pleased. Then, his mistress drew her sword and began to make slow motion attacks. He watched her movements for a bit and began to imitate them. The more accurately he mirrored her attack routine, the faster she made them. Until, both were creating a blur of metal and stone in front them. Suddenly, his mistress stopped, pointed to his stone axe, and spoke the word for "drop". As he did so, she walked over to what was left of the tree trunk that they had been chopping into fire wood, picked up a large branch with one hand, trimmed some bits from it with her sword, and then gave the makeshift club to him. Next, his mistress walked a few paces away, turned to face him, and patted the flat side of her sword against the palm of her hand a few times. Then, his mistress resumed her previous combat stance, spoke a new word, and charged!

Because of the prior beatdowns she had given him, he was already accustomed to the speed at which she moved. Again, time seemed to slow down, just as before when the green blooded ambush predator pounced at him. He raised the club in hand to intercept his mistress's sword and blocked it. His mistress stopped her attack, looked at him in astonishment, and smiled as she resumed her assault. He did his best to block the swings of next her next offensive. But, the final swing of her flurry of attacks made contact with the side of his head at eye level. He resisted both the urge to rub the stinging welt and the anger welling up in him. He struggled to make sense of this assault while continuing blocking her attacks. As far as he could tell, this battle was not punitive. Otherwise, he reasoned, she would not have bothered to arm him with the club he held.

A few dozen attacks later, he started to become aware of openings when his mistress attacked. He felt a strong impulse to take advantage of these opportunities, but resisted these impulses because he did not know if his new status allowed him to strike her. It only took few more welts to push him into striking back. Reading his mistress's body language, he noticed that her next attack would be targeted at his head. He ducked under the attack and realized that his mistress had just overextended herself. Jumping forward, he slammed his shoulder into her throwing her completely off balance. Understanding he had a brief moment of opportunity, he gave the stylish, but serviceable hat on her head a light thump with his club. Then, he backed off and watched her reaction to being struck.

She took the hat off her horns and inspected it for damage. She frowned when she noticed the new dent in it. Fortunately, a quick poke with her finger fixed the defect. Then, his mistress tossed the hat out of harm's way and focused on him again. Her eyes narrowed hatefully as she smiled at him again and spoke the new word again before charging again.


	10. Caliginous Flirtation

With the hairs on the back rising, he blocked the incoming attack. Through the club he wielded, he could feel his mistress's a hate fueled strength in the blow. He continued the battle, despite sensing her increasing strength in each attack he blocked. Soon, her blows were causing him to be partially thrown off balance with block. Which forced him to begin dodging instead of blocking to avoid her attacks. Eventually, the sparring session ended with him on his knees, thoroughly spent, and covered in countless welts and a few bruises. His mistress tried to get him to rise up and resume fighting by drubbing the flat side of her sword against his head and chanting the new word again and again, but he could not continue. After few minutes, he watched as she sheathed her sword, recover her hat, and enter the cave. Once alone, he thought about the context his mistress used this new word in and decided it was possibly a formal declaration of hostility. Because of this, he chose to interpret the meaning of this new word as "fight".

By the time his mistress exited the cave again, he had caught his breath and was standing again. He watched his mistress approach with her metal axe in her hand. When she walked near him, she spoke the words for "pick up" and pointed at his stone axe. Once he did so, his mistress spoke the word for "come" and started walking. He followed after her into the nearby dense forest that surrounded the cave they lived in. The trees blocked most of the light from the moons overhead and he found it difficult to see under the canopy of branches at night. Her path twisted and turned and at one point, seemed to circle completely around. After an hour of stumbling after his mistress, she suddenly stopped near tree that was attempting to grow under an even larger tree and spoke the word for "mine". He watched as she began to chop into her chosen tree. His mistress stopped after a few swings with annoyed look on her face and pointed to his stone axe. After thinking about what she was doing out here and the fire wood incident, he understood that his mistress wanted him to cut his own tree down for his own fire wood needs.

Looking around, he saw a rather thin, but tall tree in a shaft of moonlight. He walked over to it and got ready to chop it down. Behind him, he heard his mistress running towards him. She grabbed his axe and spoke the word for "no". Confused, he looked at her in disbelief. His mistress pointed upwards. Looking up, he saw the moons of this world through a sparse opening in the canopy of branches. He recalled the vista he saw from on top the cave and realized if he chopped this tree down, there would be a new gap among the tree tops. Such a change in the scenery might be noticed and investigated, thus putting both him and his mistress at risk. With that new understanding, he spoke the words for "no mine" which caused his mistress to release her grasp on his stone axe. As she resumed her chopping, he resumed his search for a suitable tree to chop down.

Eventually, he found one trying to grow in the vicinity of a much larger tree. After a quick inspection of his stone axe, he began chop it down. The stone axe performed well for the first dozen swings, then it started to noticeably degrade in efficiency. He chopped half through the tree before stopping and with a final shove, the tree came down. Then, he chopped off the branches to make the resulting log easier to drag around. Once finished, he pulled it over towards where his mistress was. The tree she was chopping down was still there, but his mistress was gone! He cursed himself for failing to notice her departure and doubly cursed her for abandoning him. He looked around noticed what he hoped were boot prints she left in her wake. Dragging his log with him, he followed that trail for a few hours before stopping. Still stuck in the forest, he leaned against the nearest tree and frowned when truth finally hit him. He was completely lost!

Keeping his cool, he focused on the facts about his current predicament. Since he was still in the region patrolled by the red-eyed scavengers, he knew there were not any large predators to worry about. That also meant that he was not far his mistress's cave. All he had to do, he reasoned, was climb into a tree, wait until dawn for the scavengers to pass through, and make his way back to the cave during the daylight hours. However, something about that plan seemed wrong to him. He well understood his mistress's cruel nature. However, her cruelty always served a purpose. The more he thought about his current situation the more he became convinced that he was being tested. He understood that the only way to discover the truth was to return to the cave and for that to happen, he needed to get out of this dark forest and locate a landmark to find his current location. For that to happen, he needed to stop traveling in circles.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Opening his eyes, he looked upwards for inspiration and saw a faint green glow coming through the branches of the tree he was resting against. Curious, he started to climb upwards. He had hoped he could see the edge of the forest from the top of this tree. But, once he climbed as far up the tree he could all he could see were the taller trees around him and the starry night sky. He wondered how ancient man navigated for a few minutes, until a falling star caught his attention. It passed in front of the green moon as he wished upon it for inspiration concerning his current problem. Suddenly, he chuckled when he realized that his wish was instantly granted. He knew the green moon drifted slowly enough through the sky to be a guiding light and it was barely visible through the forest canopy. He climbed down and resumed dragging the log he harvested this time ignoring what he perceived were tracks. Every so often he would check his orientation to make sure he was still going in the same direction. After an hour of traveling, the trees started to thin out and he was able to see one of the landmarks he used to locate his position.

Looking towards the horizon, he saw the first hints that dawn was coming. He looked the log he was dragging and did some mental calculations. Based on the distance he had to go and his current speed, there would be little time before the scavengers made their pass. He knew he could leave the log behind and nobody would steal it. But, something inside him refused to take the easy option. He felt that he had something to prove to himself and to his mistress. He pulled one end of the log into his shoulder and started the journey back to the cave. It was a long and hard trip and he had balance his exertion against his reserves of stamina. When he finally saw the cave's entrance, he heard the first far-off feeding calls of the scavengers. He continued dragging the log closer to the wood cutting area near the cave's entrance while listening to the feeding calls get louder. These made him aware that he was being tracked, but how they were doing so eluded him. As far as he could tell, he was not bleeding. With final push, he added his log to the wood cutting area and wiped the sweat from his brow. Suddenly, how the scavengers were tracking him became crystal clear. It was his sweat they were following.

He jogged over to the entrance of the cave and grabbed the boulder that blocked it. Peering into the cave, he saw his mistress looking back at him with a sadistic gleam in her eyes. From behind, he heard another feeding call, this time too close to be comfortable. He was about to start rolling the boulder when he saw his mistress eyes suddenly shift their focus! Instinctively, he grabbed his stone axe and swung with all his might towards the sound of galloping feet coming from behind. He felt his stone axe impact on something and he heard a yelp. Resisting the temptation to look behind him, he began to roll the boulder again and succeeded in rolling the boulder far enough for him to squeeze by. But, his stamina ran out before he could pass completely around the boulder. Feeling the gap between the wall of entrance and the boulder closing, he grabbed his stone axe again and used it as a wedge to prevent the boulder from rolling back any further. Then, ignoring the sounds of several scavengers approaching behind him, he started pulling himself inch by inch into the cave. He felt like he was crawling between two pieces of sandpaper and he was certain he had lost a layer of skin in the process.

Once most of his body was inside the cave, he felt a scavenger bite into his boot. Refusing to sacrifice his foot wear, he dragged the red-eyed fiend into the cave with his leg. Then, he noticed that two more of the scavengers were trying to scramble their way into the cave. With both hands he grabbed his stone axe and began to pulling it free. This sudden wrenching caused the stone axe to break into pieces. Now free of any blockage, the boulder rolled back into its place, crushing the two scavengers. His mistress quickly locked the boulder into place with a piece of fire wood she used as a wedge.

Finally safe, he Looked at his mistress as she looked back at him. Both listened to the sound of hundreds of seeking little claws tearing fruitless at the entrance of the cave. While he was upset that she had intentionally got him lost and then abandoned him in the forest at night, he also knew that there was something else going on. Looking at her, he noticed she was watching him, as if she was expecting response. This staring contest persisted for several minutes, until his mistress noticed the scavenger still attached to his boot and became repulsed. He looked down at the little fiend and briefly consider making it a pet. But, something about the way his mistress was looking at it made him realize that was not a good idea. Also, he was starting to become hungry. With a single stomp and some cooking later, he had dinner.

Because he had spent the night awake and toiling, he slept through most of the day. He woke up briefly for a drink from the dew pond and to inspect his foot for any signs of injury from last night's scavenger's bite. Finding no evidence of toothmarks or skin breakage, he felt a small amount of pride at his creations. His boots, despite what his mistress thought of them, had protected him. Finished with his needs, he returned to the cave and went back to sleep.

He awoke to a familiar pain in his ribs. Looking up, he saw his mistress. He briefly wondered what she wanted before yawning, rolling over, and closed his eyes in an attempt to go back a sleep. He was forced to relent after his mistress switched to the heel of her boot to make her displeasure known. Sitting up, he sleepily looked at his mistress. The fact that she had not woken him in this way for quite some time did not escape his attention. She pointed over at his bow and spear and spoke the word for "pick up". Instantly, he knew that they were hunting together this night. He stood up and stretched, as he was still stiff from his recent lumber jacking experience. Then, he walked over to his equipment and began to put on the various straps and belts that held his gear. As he did so, he thoughts drifted to this newest change in the way his mistress was treating him. As far he could tell, she had returned to being abusive towards him again, but this time there was an odd playfulness in her actions. He suspected that the light blow to her head he gave her was most likely the cause. His mistress, growing ever more impatient, starting chanting the words for "go", "leave", and "come" in her people's language. With a final shove, he finished loading his quiver with arrows and spoke the strange folk's word for "yes".

He followed her for many miles. When she entered unknown lands, he made careful mental notes on the directions he was traveling relative to the moons, just in case his mistress tried to get him lost again. Fortunately, her path was mostly straight and stayed clear of any forested regions. At long last, she stopped and pointed downwards at the ground. In between tracks made by clawed feet was a large mound of droppings. Although repulsed by it, he knew he could learn a lot about the creature by investigating. With a nearby stick he poked the still steaming mound and pushed a jaw bone out it and a second poke revealed a skull with horns. Whatever this creature was, he understood that it was very big and that it preyed on the strange folk.

Behind him, he heard giggling coming from his mistress. After giving her an irritated look, he stood up and pointed in the direction the mysterious creature went. His mistress's reaction was as if he had just dared her to do something dangerous. He continued to watch her as she spent a few moments of alternating her focus between the tracks and on him. Based on the changes in his mistress's body posture, he speculated that she was seriously considering hunting whatever made these tracks. Suddenly, he saw her eyes narrowed in that all-to-familiar-way and watched as his mistress as she turned and began running in the direction the tracks traveled. As he rushed after her, he realized that his mistress was using her hate fueled gift to make huge strides. Even in a dead sprint, he could not keep up with her and soon he lost sight of her as she disappeared into the night in a series of leaps. Undaunted, he continued on and focus his eyes downward on the tracks of the creature and his mistress.

After several minutes of following the tracks, he saw his mistress on a ridge looking down at something. As he got near her, he noticed that she was primed and ready for battle. He looked towards where his mistress was looking and saw the creature they were tracking. From a distance, he saw it was some kind of reptile and as large as a truck. Its well muscled body was covered in numerous battle scars and it seemed to be feeding on a recent kill. He mentally assessed both his and his mistress's odds of survival if they tangled with this monster. Even with the element of surprise, he came to the conclusion that the odds were not very good. With a single look, he could tell that his mistress was not going to back down from this challenge and when she sternly pointed at the reptilian monster, he understood that she was not going to let him back out either.

He took a deep breath, leaped onto a nearby waist high boulder, and let out sigh. For several minutes, he surveyed the local landscape for paths towards their target and tried to determine the direction of the wind so that he could approach the monster without his smell giving him away. He did not suspect anything when his mistress approached him from behind. That quickly changed when he felt her hands on his rump. Before he could turn his head and protest the sudden violation of his personal space, he felt a sudden and powerful force channeled through his body. It took all of his self-control not scream out as he flew up and towards the reptilian monster. When he hit the ground, he went into a roll and came to a stop in some tall grass.

Through the grass he watched as the reptilian monster rose up fully on its fore legs. Then, it began to look around for the disturbance and sniffing the air. After a few moments, the reptilian monster started turning its head back and forth as it continued its search. The hairs on the back of his neck stood when the monster's gaze focused on him. His every instinct screamed for him not to move.

Obeying his instincts, he held his breath and watched the irises of the eyes set deeply in reptilian monster's skull dilate and constrict in an attempt to discern his form the tall grass until the urge to breathe became irresistible. Having no other choice, he took the slowest breath possible. Upon inhalation, he stench of the monster hit him. He allowed himself to relax a bit, as he knew for as long he was downwind of the reptilian monster then it could not smell him. After a few more sweeps of its head, the monster went back to eating its kill. He watched the reptilian monster take a few bites and noticed that when it swallowed, the monster closed its eyes and remained still while its meal traveled down its throat. A shiver ran up his spine when he realized that his mistress had given him the perfect shot setup. Slowly, he readied his bow, drew an arrow and waited as the reptilian monster took another bite and closed its eyes as it began to swallow. He aimed for one eye of the monster carefully and when it started to open he fired. The sound from his bow caused the reptilian monster to snap its eyes fully open just in time for his arrow to find its target. 

Immediately and with an angry roar, the monster began clawing its eye in an attempt to dislodge the arrow. This reaction told him that the reptilian monster was not yet disabled yet and that he had another target to hit. He rose up onto his knees and drew another arrow at the same time he felt the fickle breeze changed direction towards the monster. Carefully aiming for its other eye, he watched and waited as the reptilian monster caught his scent and suddenly looked towards him. He could not ask for a better shot setup. He did not bother to watch his second arrow hit its target, as his instincts were screaming out again, this time for him to run. However, he did not get the chance to obey them.

Behind the monster, he saw moonlight reflecting from his mistress's sword and when it vanished, the reptilian monster hissed. Suddenly, in a single leap, it turned completely around. He was forced to roll out of the way of the monster's massive tail as it swung around. As recovered his footing, he could hear his mistress fighting with the reptilian monster. Looking for anyway to help her, he saw the result of his mistress's surprise attack. On one of the hind legs of the monster, there was an open wound on an ankle and inside of it he could clearly see a tendon moving. Instantly, he understood that his mistress intended to hamstring the reptilian monster with her first strike. Knowing that his spear was only good for making holes in things, he drew one of his obsidian knives and plunged it into the open wound on the rear leg of the monster. He was able to make a dozen quick sawing motions with his knife before the monster raised its hind leg high enough to move the wound out of his reach. Then, he noticed, too late that the reptilian monster had raised its rear foot in preparation for a kick.

The kick hit him on his diaphragm thereby knocking the wind out of him, sending him tumbling, and scattering his bow and other weapons all over the ground. Desperately trying to catch his breath, he began crawling between some nearby rocks. He knew that even while blinded, the monster could still smell him and with a leap, it could easily crush him. Once between the rocks, he looked back and saw the reptilian monster was preparing to leap in his general direction. Furthermore, he could not find any trace of his mistress. All he could do was try to catch his breath and watch as the monster channeled its strength into its hind legs. Just as the monster achieved lift off, its injured hind leg suddenly went limp and the monster landed mere yards from him in a massive belly-flop.

He realized that he was now in race to against the reptilian monster to be the one who recovered first. He focused on his breathing and watched as the monster slowly got one foot under itself and then, another. Still having difficulties breathing, he forced himself back onto his feet and began a slow jog around the reptilian monster. After surveying the area for his weapons, he noticed that his mistress had returned to the ridge. Furthermore, she was making an odd motion with her sword, as if she was trying to shove it into her ear. This caused him to look again at the monster and noticed a dark pit in the side of its head. Hoping that this was what his mistress meant, he recovered his bow, drew an arrow, aimed, and fired. He watched as the reptilian monster seemed to suffer a minor seizure. This reaction encouraged him to make the same bow shot to the dark pit on the other side of the monster's head. He smiled he saw the reptilian monster roll onto its back and begin to spasm. He watched as the monster's suffering finally came to an end when his mistress leaped onto the its chest and gave the killing blow. Then, she jumped down.

He got ready for the usual skinning. With his obsidian knife in hand, he approached the carcass of the reptilian monster ahead of his mistress. But, this act provoked his mistress into shoving him away from the kill. As he got back up and dusted himself off, he realized because of all the time he spent hunting alone that he had forgotten that his mistress always had first rights to any kills. He watched her as she pulled out her pliers and started to removing teeth from the carcass. When his mistress pulled the first tooth, she looked back at him with a smirk and laughed. Based her actions, he knew that she was still in another one of her moods where she enjoyed being mean to him. Instead of getting worked up, he stood stone faced, secure in the knowledge that there was too much meat and hides on the carcass for his mistress to carry it all by herself.

With a second tooth removed, his mistress looked back at him again and this time, he noticed that she was no longer laughing. Each additional tooth she harvested caused her mood to worsen. By the sixth tooth, his mistress just stood and looked at the ground with a bit of a frown on her face. This caught his attention and he started thinking. Based on his mistress's body language, it appeared to him that she had just received the "lets just be friends" speech. From that observation, the possibility that the two of them had managed to develop some sort of relationship entered his mind. He thought about all the events between him and his mistress and her reactions to them and came up with an idea. He did not know if his reasoning was correct, only that he was risking death at his mistress's hands if he was wrong.

He picked up a rock and started walking towards her and the carcass.


	11. Giving and Taking

He shoved his mistress out of his way as he passed her and walked towards the maw of the carcass. Once there, he struck a tooth in the mouth of the carcass with the rock he held. Since his mind was focused on his inevitable mistress's reprisal, his aim was a little too high and snapped the tooth he struck in half. His second attempt was rewarded with a tooth that was in one piece. Although it represented little value to him, he grabbed the freed tooth and yelled out as if he had just struck gold. When he raised the rock for a third strike, his sensed that mistress was near him, finally ready to retaliate. He prepared himself against her attempt to knock him away from the jaws of deceased reptilian monster. As result, he was only staggered by his mistress's push and soon recovered his balance. In retribution, he slammed his weight back into her. Yet, his mistress kept her footing and after a few minutes both he and his mistress reached a stalemate in their shoving match.

Unable to dislodge the other, they started to competitively harvesting teeth. He soon noticed that with every tooth he broke or shattered, his mistress became more incensed. Because of this observation he made the conscious decision to start actively destroying teeth just to antagonize her further. Soon, his vandalism was repaid in a stream of words he had never heard before. The increasingly furious tone his mistress used to speak these words lead him to the conclusion that he was hearing his first words of profanity in the strange folk's language. Refocusing on the teeth, he noticed his mistress was going for a tooth near him. Seeing an opportunity to drive her to the breaking point, he waited for his mistress to apply her pliers to the tooth. Then, he smashed it with his rock! Screaming, she responded with a powerful shove.

Instead of resisting her assault, he rolled with it and tumbled onto the ground. This was the moment that he had been waiting for. Calling on all of his limited acting skills, he conjured up the meanest and nastiest look he could onto his face. Then, he gave his facial expression just a bit of a pout to signal that he was defeated. Once ready, he looked up at her. His mistress's reaction was unmistakable, she grinned so widely her teeth showed and gestured to the remaining teeth in the jaws of the dead reptilian monster and spoke the word for "mine". He got up, solemnly walked to the other side of the carcass while listening to his mistress's mocking laughter and began the process of harvesting its hide. As he did so, he thought about what just transpired and sneaked an occasional peek at his mistress as he worked.

She seemed to be standing taller and she still had that broad toothy grin on her face. With this observation, he realized his mistress was very competitive and she enjoyed the thrill of victory greatly. Suddenly, the idea that his mistress's recent acts of cruelty were not just products of her sadistic nature, but they were also invitations to compete against her, like some sort of flirtation. The thought that his mistress might have feelings, even alien ones, for him caused him to drop the obsidian knife he was using. Once he recovered it, he resumed his work and expanded his thoughts to his mistress's people and wondered about the acts of savagery he saw he had observed at the communal camp so long ago. He began to question his previous assumptions of the strange folk and wondered if they were as savage as he first thought.

Next, he began to think about current predicament. He needed to develop his fighting abilities so he could defeat the Behemoth, the Merchant, and the Overseer. While, his mistress needed someone to compete and fight with. The solution was clear to him, by helping his mistress he would gain what he needed. Taking a deep breath, he resolved to continue this odd relationship with his mistress and serve as her rival. However, he also made a promise to cut back on the one-upmanship games with her, the reptilian monster nearly killed both of them!

Though the fight was short, the harvesting of materials from the deceased reptilian monster took most of the night. Once he was done skinning the carcass, he butchered several portions of meat and wrapped them in the hides he took. Then, he waited for his mistress to finish. She extracted the last of the teeth and then, cut one of the hind legs of the dead reptilian monster off at the knee and threw it over her shoulder. Then, his mistress started jogging back to the cave without even saying a word. He quickly threw his items onto his shoulders and ran after her. But, he was unable to keep up with her, this time due to the load he carried. Fortunately, the cobalt blood that dripped from the leg she carried was easy enough to for him follow.

He made his way back to the cave without incident and well ahead of the scavengers. Once back inside the cave, he cooked and ate some of the meat he had brought back. Then, he went to sleep. The next few days were uneventful as their supplies of meat eliminated the need to hunt for a while. During this calm period, he replenished his supply of arrows, replaced his broken stone axe with another, and started work on a hooded cloak. His reasoning being that a hood was like a boot, except more rounded and with a hole for his face. Although he could visualize most of the shapes he needed to cut out of his materials, he realized that he needed additional help for this project, which came in the form of an ovoid stone. Upon seeing it for the first time, he realized it was an excellent model for his own head and soon he was arranging pieces of hide on the stone. The stitching for the hooded cloak took the better part of a day to complete, but when he was finished he had his second piece of self-made apparel. Best of all, he noticed that his mistress did not roll her eyes, sigh, or place her hand over her face when she first saw it.

Instead, his mistress just chew her latest meal slowly. He recalled seeing her finish eating the last of her meat supplies the previous night and wondered where she got this meal from. Since neither of them had hunted since the last time, he quickly deduced where she got her latest meal, from his supplies. Feeling violated, he wanted yell at his mistress. But, he knew that this was her way of baiting him into another confrontation. Also, he suspected that she had gotten bored while he was working on his hooded cloak. This situation, he realized, was an opportunity to channel this relationship towards his ends.

Looking at the cave entrance, he could tell that night had fallen. Taking what remained of his food supplies with him, he rolled the boulder out of his way and intentionally did not put it back. Looking back, he saw that this defiant act had caught his mistress's attention. She hurried to the cave's entrance and glared at him through her narrowed eyes. Quickly, he found the sparring club and set the meat down on a rock in her view. Then, he assumed the fighting stance his mistress had taught him and began going through the combat routines while speaking the words for "fight" and "yours". She seemed to get his intention as she drew her sword from her sheath and began to tap the flat side of her sword against the palm of her hand while advancing towards him. In response, he raised his club in preparation of her attack. He blocked her first few swings easily. But, as the fight progressed, he noticed that his mistress was not fighting at her full potential and kept looking at the meat on the rock. Quickly sensing her intentions, he created a false opening for his mistress. When she fell for the trap by reaching for the leftovers, he gave her a solid kick and sent both her and the meat tumbling into the dirt.

As his mistress got up and dusted herself off, he tried his best not to smile. He knew to do so would be the absolutely worst thing to at the moment. But, the temptation to do so was too much for him to resist and as the seconds went by, he felt the one corner of his mouth raise just a tiny bit. His mistress's reaction when she saw his face and the soiled meat was all too predictable. With an inhuman scream, she charged. This time his mistress fought with the power she showed when they first encountered each other and now, she was hitting hard enough to power through his blocks. The hood on his head helped with some of the blows, but left his arms and legs exposed. The only thing he found effective against her assault was agility. However, exhaustion and injury soon robbed him that only defense and he was eventually defeated.

Fighting through the pain in his limbs, he focused on the face he made the last time he capitulated to his mistress. Hoping to mollify her, he looked up once he had that unique blend of anger, frustration, and sullenness on his face. But, the instant he saw his mistress's face he knew his ruse was not going to work this time. There was malice in her eyes which told him that she wanted something more than mere surrender. With growing unease, he watched as his mistress walked over to the now dirty pieces of meat, picked the largest portion off the ground, and brought it over to him. Next, she grabbed his lower jaw, worked her fingernails in between his teeth, and spoke two new words. Again, his mistress repeated the new two words and for emphasis made exaggerated chewing motions with her mouth. His stomach churned once the definition of one of the new words became clear, "consume".

He knew that he had no way of stopping her from force feeding him and to resist would mean losing teeth and possibly choking to death on the "meal". Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth and accepted the mouthful of several days old, almost rotten, dirty, raw meat. Once it was completely in his mouth, his mistress wrapped her hands around his head, held his mouth closed, and pinched his nose. Gagging from the nasty flavors he tasted, he held out for several minutes before succumbing to the urge to breathe. As he felt the meal slide down his throat, a nauseated feeling came over him. Finally satisfied, his mistress released him and returned to the cave.

He got back on his feet and began to question the merits of this relationship and about what just happened. While he was successful in getting some sparring, something was very wrong. He did not understand why did his mistress force fed him after she had won. Perhaps there was something else she wanted from him he wondered. His inability to figure out what it was made him angry and he picked up the club and beat it repeatedly against a rock in frustration until it split into pieces. Then, he felt a chill run up his back when the possibility, in his mistress eyes, that breaking the club was the same as ending this new relationship. He closed his eyes and accepted that he would have to deal with whatever consequences that the broken club would bring. Feeling depressed, he entered the cave. 

Once back in the cave, he experienced the first of countless stomach cramps within a few hours after his "meal". Each moan that escaped his lips was met with mocking laughter from his mistress and she watched his tossing and turning intensely. Eventually, his mistress got bored and left him alone in his personal hell. After a few days, he finally recovered and was feeling almost normal again. The fever he had just gone through caused him to become dehydrated and he realized that he needed some water. When he emerged from the cave, he noticed that night had fallen and he wondered where his mistress had gone off to. Since the sickness he had just suffered through had caused him to lose track of her comings and goings. Unable to discover her current whereabouts, he made his way to the pond to rehydrate himself. The cool water made him feel better and after a brief rest, he started to walk back to the cave. 

As he neared the entrance he saw a new club was propped up against the entrance boulder. His curiosity compelled him to pick it up and make a few practice swings with it. It felt exactly the same as the one he had destroyed in frustration days ago. The new club seemed to dance on its own as he went through his combat routines. He suddenly froze when he heard the two new words again coming from behind. Instantly, he realized that his mistress was not going to give up on this new rivalry so easily.

He turned around and saw his mistress standing there with another disgusting piece of meat in her hand. She repeated the two new words and gave the meat a jiggle. Having recently suffered through a few days of food poisoning, he was none too keen on obeying his mistress's commands. Instead, he gripped the new club tightly and through clenched teeth said "No", in English. Quickly, he became aware of his mistake and corrected himself by repeating his previous refusal in the strange folk's language. His mistress was confused by this mistake on his part and just stared at him perplexed. Seeing an opportunity, he charged her and knocked the offensive meat out of her hand.

This act caused her to pull her sword from its sheath and began to tap the flat side of her sword against her hand. This time, he noticed that each tap was more forceful than the last and with each one her smile grew little bit larger. His mistress continued her intimidating display until she was smiling her special toothy grin and the taps of her sword became full powered slaps against the palm of her hand. Refusing to be cowed, he focused on his recent forced feeding by his mistress. Although he blamed himself partially for baiting her, he also felt that she had cross the line. He vowed to himself that he would not back-down from his mistress this time and ignored the sneaking suspicion that somehow, some way he was giving her exactly what she wanted.

Clashing together, they traded blows for a few minutes. But, that soon changed as he felt his mistress get stronger as she started calling on her people's hate fueled gift. Since he knew he could never match her strength, he decided to make up for this deficiency with sheer ferocity. As he sacrificed defense for offense, the number of attacks he made for every one of hers increased to two, then three, and finally four. Bit by bit, he watched as the toothy grin on his mistress's face slowly became a snarl. This burst of offense was tiring, but the hope he felt from seeing her on defensive for the very first time encouraged him to fight against the creeping exhaustion and pain. As continued his onslaught, his mistress screamed every time one his attacks made it through her defenses. After several minutes of this torment, his mistress withdrew into the night by making a series of impressive leaps.

He watched her melt into the darkness once she traveled past the range of his night limited sight. Knowing that pursuing his mistress during the night was sheer folly, he closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of her movement. The fact she was not bothering to be stealthy bothered him. Keeping his guard up, he slowly turned towards the noises she made and tried to predict from which direction his mistress would make her next attack. Suddenly, he heard a series of impacts that sounded like running feet hitting the ground. Quickly, he ran to intercept her and to finish this fight. With a leap, he raised his club above his head and brought it down hard at where his mistress should have been. However, all that he hit was the ground. Looking around, he saw stones and the disturbed earth around them. In an instant, he knew that they were thrown at this spot.

He did not have time to curse himself for falling for one of his own tricks as his mistress's surprise tackle was both swift and effective. Once knocked down, she never gave him any chance to regain his footing and soon the fight was over. Too tired and bruised to fight further, he scornfully watched his mistress sheath her sword and pull another repulsive piece of meat out from somewhere. Next, she lifted him into a sitting position by his hair with one hand and taunted him by dangling the meat in front of his face with her other hand. Once again his mistress's special toothy grin reappeared on her face as she began to press the meat against his lips and chanted the two new words. Gently at first, then with greater and greater force each time she repeated herself. His mind began to race, he did not want to lose any teeth. But, he needed to find some way to draw the line somewhere against the abuse he was now suffering.

Suddenly and with a wicked smile, he realized he had one final means of both fighting back and, at the same time, teach his mistress a lesson. He waited for the pressure she applied against his mouth reach painful levels before enacting his revenge. With her next shove, he snapped his jaw open fully and the instant fetid meat and his mistress's fingers entered his mouth, he bit down as hard as possible. Next, he quickly wrapped his arms and legs around her arm and held on as best he could. His mistress howled in pain and tried in vain to free herself. As she desperately struggled, the nasty combined flavors of the meat and his mistress's fingers were gradually overwhelmed by a new taste and warmness that slowly filled his mouth. Soon, he understood that this new flavor came from her blood.

After many minutes of being beaten and dragged around, he heard his mistress scream out in frustration. Having been driven to the breaking point once again, she drew her sword and pressed its tip against him. Getting her point both figuratively and physically, he slowly released his legs, arms, and, finally, opened his mouth. He watched his mistress as she examined her fingers.

With one look at her face, he could clearly see she was no longer smiling.


	12. Black

He watched as his mistress surveyed the injuries to her fingers then turned her eyes to him. He locked his eyes on hers until he no longer bear the terrible combined flavors of the contents of his mouth and spat the meat and the mouthful of olive colored blood out at her feet. This act seemed to enrage his mistress and she raised her sword, as if to run him through the center of his chest. 

Drawing on a year's worth of experiences with her, he sensed there was something off about this particular display of anger coming from his mistress. This awareness combined with his previous sneaking suspicion made him suspect that she was being deceptive on some level. The more he studied her body language, the more he became convinced she was so. He did not know if the strange folk made wagers, but if they did, then his mistress had to be a terrible gambler. Lacking the words to call her bluff, he tried to stand instead. However, all he could manage in his current state of exhaustion was to rise up onto one knee. From there, he carefully watched his mistress's reaction. There was a brief moment where she bit her lower lip, then she made a few more threatening gestures with her sword before turning away from him. However, before her head had completely turned away, he saw that one corner of her mouth had curled upwards. In an instant, he knew she was pleased.

He thought about what had just transpired as he recovered. As far as he could determine, this latest battle with his mistress had ended in a stalemate and that conclusion forced him to rethink what she wanted from this peculiar relationship with him. If his previous assumption about her wanting to win was correct, then his mistress should have forced fed him that rancid piece of meat after he had spat it out. Since she did not, he reasoned there had to be something else she had received from their latest fight that pleased her. One by one, he eliminated the various reasons for his mistress to be happy with this last bout. Until, he came to one possibility that he could not reason away. It was his defiance that was paramount he concluded.

Suddenly, he started seeing their interactions from his mistress's perspective and saw that his previous false surrenders were not fulfilling her desires. But, to his mistress's credit, she played along with his manipulations until an opportunity presented itself to teach him what she really wanted from him. These forced feedings, he realized, were not just her reveling in victory over him, but they were also his mistress's attempts at motivating him to fight with everything he had. He had to admit to himself that her scheme worked perfectly. In the latest bout with her, he noticed that he transcended his previous believed limits of pain tolerance, endurance, and ability. A renewed feeling of respect towards his mistress came over him and he made a vow that he would hold nothing back in any future conflicts with her.

After resting for a few hours, he was able to slip past the boulder that served as the front door of his mistress's cave. Back inside, he noticed that she was in the middle of crafting a new craft project. At first glance, he thought his mistress was making a boot. But, he soon realized that the overall size of her project was a bit too small for that to the case. He continued to watch his mistress work and tried to absorb as much of her techniques as possible. Once his mistress started to stitch the last few pieces together, he could see that she was making a glove. But, his mistress did not stop once she finished the glove. She continued cutting and stitching additional pieces of hide to the fingers of the glove. Upon witnessing the armoring of the glove's fingers, he knew that his mistress was going to try to force feed him again. He felt okay with this development.

After a few days, his mistress again showed signs of becoming increasingly antagonistic towards him. The fact that her mood swing coincided with his bruises from their last fight starting to fade did not escape his notice. The first escalation came after he hunted for the first time since being forced fed by his mistress. When he returned from a visit to the dew pond above the cave, he discovered that she had pilfered his leftovers he had hidden away again. Instead of fighting with his mistress right away, he decided to see just how far she would go in her attempts to pick a fight with him. He discovered the next escalation when he left the cave to hunt the next day. Left in his path, broken in pieces, was the new club that his mistress had made for him. 

He understood that this act of sabotage meant that his mistress was getting restless and possibly fed up with this strange relationship. Realizing that he needed to find some way of aggravating her, he began planning as he crafted a replacement stone axe and made a new club. He continued to think of various schemes of riling her while hunting during the day. By the time he returned to the cave in the evening, he had completed a plan that he believed would surely drive his mistress crazy.

He would pretend to run away from her.

After a quick meal, he laid down, pretended to go to sleep, and waited for his mistress to begin her nightly hunt. As soon he heard the entrance boulder roll back into its place, he got up and watched her disappear into the night. Satisfied that she would be gone for the foreseeable future, he piled all his possessions onto the remaining hides he still had and rolled everything up in them. Then, he balanced the resulting bundle on his shoulders and using a few strips of hide, he tied the bundle to himself. Finally finished with his packing, he forced the boulder out of his way. Before leaving, he gave the cave one last look and noticed how empty it was without his belongings cluttering it up. Once outside, he picked up the club he had previously created and made his way to the edge of the forest.

He speculated on his mistress's most probable return path back to the cave and selected a nearby tree that would give him both cover and a view of her approach. He wondered briefly how to get to that tree without leaving behind a trail for his mistress to follow. Looking around for a solution, he noticed that the branches above him formed a labyrinthine network of paths. Quickly, he realized he had everything he needed for his prank. For the next several hours, he created a trail that nearly circled the forest completely. Once he finished with his shenanigans, he made his way via the network of branches to the tree he picked out earlier and waited for his mistress's return.

Around midnight, he spotted his mistress running back to the cave. Based on the earliness of her arrival, he speculated that she must have found something important. However, due to the speed his mistress was running, he soon lost sight of her. Lacking any better options, he closed his eyes and began imagining his mistress's actions as she returned from her latest hunt. At first, his mistress would not pay any attention to his tracks leading from the cave. Instead, she would push her way past the boulder and put it back into place. Only then, would she turn around and see...

Suddenly, there was an inhuman howl so loud that it woke the winged diurnal beasts in the trees around him and sent them flying away. Based on the sheer amount of anger in it, he knew that his plan was already was a success! It was several minutes later when he spotted his mistress following his tracks. She had her sword at the ready as she walked into the forest. Knowing his mistress's sight was better than his at night, he hid in the branches of the trees and waited for his mistress to pass by. He heard her walking below and then stop unexpectedly. His heart start to pound as he wondered if she managed to look up and spot him somehow. When he heard her scream out a single word in her people's language, "BEAST!", it nearly skipped a beat. 

This outburst from his mistress, he realized, was a formal declaration of hostility and he sensed tremendous anger in it. But, he also discerned there were other emotions in it as well. While he had originally intended to shadow his mistress from the branches as she followed the false trail he made for her, his instincts told him to stay put. Obeying his instincts, he remained still and continued to listen to his mistress travel further away. It was several minutes later that she shouted out his moniker again. His mind attempted to filter out the anger that he sensed and focused on identifying what remained. After his mistress's third outcry, he finally succeeded in analyzing the two more subtle emotions she was feeling, desperation and loneliness. A feeling of regret came over him as he became aware of what his prank was causing his mistress suffer and his practical joke suddenly seemed a lot less funny.

Moved by his own guilty feelings, he traversed the maze of branches until he got ahead of her. There, he located a branch that was low enough to drop from that was directly over the false trail he made. He was forced to listen to several more of her attempts at contacting him before he saw her again. Knowing better that to confront his mistress in her current emotional state, he realized that he needed a distraction. Taking the bundle from his shoulders into his hands, he waited for the perfect moment. Looking downwards, he spied his mistress continuing to follow the false trail he created and when she was directly below him she stopped and put her hands around her mouth in preparation for another shout out. He knew he could not ask for a better shot at his mistress and released the bundle from his grasp. When he saw that missile had knocked her flat on her face, he dropped down to the forest's floor.

He hit the ground and quickly armed himself with the new club he had brought with him. Noticing that his mistress was slow at regaining her footing, he used this lull to recall her previous attempts at menacing him. Quickly, he adopted his mistress's stance and started to thump the club into his other hand. When his mistress finally stood up, her eyes narrowed into slits so thin he wondered if she could still see him. Next, his mistress reached into her clothing and pulled out the armored gloved she previously made and inserted her hand into it and, soon, another disgusting chunk of meat appeared in his mistress's gloved hand. Then, she began to chant the two new words again as she advanced towards him. As his mistress got closer to him, he noticed that the glove's thickness made it cumbersome. Then, the realization hit him that she had just handicapped herself by having it on her sword hand. He quickly snatched the foul meat from her grasp and stuffed it in between his cheek and teeth. Then he pretended to swallow it.

The look of surprise on his mistress's face was all the motivation he needed to seize the initiative. His first flurry of attacks caught her flat-footed and sent her stumbling backwards. However, once her surprised state of mind wore off, his mistress raised her sword and went into a defensive stance. Emboldened by this initial success, he once again recklessly abandoned his defenses in exchange for increasing his offensive abilities. But, his mistress had learned from their previous clash and easily evaded his assault by dancing out of his reach. Knowing he could not keep up this frenzied pace for very long, he backed off and adopted a defensive strategy hoping to bait her into coming closer.

His plan worked instantly as his mistress responded to his body language with an attack. As she lunged towards him, he targeted the cumbersome glove on her sword arm. Channeling all his strength into his club, it impacted near the cross-guard of her sword and knocked it from her gloved hand. Made off balance by the power in his last attack, he could only watch as his mistress performed an impressive back flip and recovered her sword before it hit the ground. Then, his mistress looked at him with grudging respect as she tossed her sword in her off hand and raised her gloved hand towards her mouth. Knowing she was trying to pull the glove off her dominate hand, he charged her again in an attempt to frustrate her efforts at removing it. But, he was only successful in delaying the inevitable. As the battle with his mistress progressed, she was able to free her hand from the glove and returned her sword to her primary hand.

He knew that this fight was effectively over at this point, but he also understood that he needed to prove to her that she no longer needed to use the threat of force feeding to motivate him. Becoming resolute about his goal, he fought onwards through the pain and exhaustion. After exchanging blows with his mistress for several minutes, he noticed that as he changed his tactics so did she. The longer this duel lasted, the more it resembled a surreal and painful game of rock, paper, and scissors. For every trick, tactic, and stratagem he tried his mistress seemed to already have a counter for it. Despite being obviously outclassed, he strove to learn as much as he could from her.

Ultimately, he was defeated. His mistress leaned over him with that familiar toothsome grin on her face as he rested on his back and gave him a few nudges to his ribs with the toe of her boot to see if there was any fight left in him. He responded by spitting out the meat he had pretended to swallow. That caused her to burst out laughing so hard that her head rocked back and forth. He felt droplets landing on him and with a single sniff he recognized what was raining on him, sweat. Then, his mistress turned away from him and started walking. Curious, he rolled onto his shoulder and watched her as she carefully unrolled the bundle that he had packed when he left the cave and began going through his possessions. Sometimes, she would closely examine one of bone, wood, or obsidian tools he had fabricated and compare it to the metal original that she owned. Based on the sounds his mistress made, he got the idea that she was impressed with the tools he had crafted. Once finished with her audit, she took most of the hides from his collection and started walking back to the cave.

A full hour passed before he regained the ability to walk. Looking around, he discovered the armored glove that his mistress had discarded. He picked it up and studied it. What first caught his attention was the materials his mistress used to stitch this glove together. Half of the stitches used thin strips of hide like he used, while the other half used the same clear thread he had used to close the lacerations on his arm. The more he examined the glove, the more it looked like that she had run out of the clear thread in the middle of assembling this glove. Experimentally, he tried to pull the glove onto his hand, but it was too tight in some places and too loose in others. He decided to keep it and so he could unravel its secrets for later. Next, he looked at what his mistress had left behind of his belongings. As far he could tell nothing else was appropriated except the extra hides he was amassing for his next clothing project. He carefully repacked everything he owned in the few tattered hides his mistress left him and returned to the cave. After another struggle with the boulder that blocked the entrance, he reclaimed his place in the cave. His mistress was already at work at on a new project. Looking over her shoulder he saw what she was making and identified them as bags. Uninterested, he went to sleep.

The next few days passed uneventfully and he spent most of the time trying to puzzle out the meaning of the two new words his mistress spoke to him. He was able to quickly comprehend which of them meant "consume" since she only spoke the word for "yes" whenever he pointed at something edible. However, the meaning of the second new word was much harder to crack. It seemed to him that no matter what he pointed at, all he ever received as a response from his mistress was the strange folk's word for "yes". However, his ceaseless pestering finally paid off when he finally got his mistress to respond with the word for "no" when he pointed at her and spoke the second new word. Next, he pointed to himself. The exasperated look on her face told him the answer was no. But, he had to be sure. Again, he spoke the second new word.

Her eyes narrowed into slits and she said, "no", in English!


	13. Something Sweet

He slowly backed away from his mistress. His reasons for doing so were many: her face and body language implied that she was about to become predictably violent again, her unearthly accent, but most importantly, this was the first word of English that he had heard in a long time that did not come from his own mouth. After retreating back to his section of the cave, he looked at the entrance and noticed that the morning light was shining into the cave. Thinking it would be wise to give his mistress some space, he made his way outside unarmed and started to think about the last time he even spoke a complete sentence in English. The lack of any real answer troubled him.

As he wandered aimlessly around, he practiced speaking his native tongue. At first, he had to force the words out his mouth, but as he continued to practice they became easier to speak and, after some more practice, he was stringing words together to form basic sentences. It seemed that his native language was just stuck behind all of the survival skills, the bits of the strange folk's language, and combat training he had learned thus far. Once he was satisfied that his native tongue was still in his head, he stopped both his verbal practicing and his meandering.

A familiar buzzing sound prompted him to look around to get his bearings. Based on the landmarks he saw, he placed himself at the edge of the scavenger's territory. But, in area he had yet to explore. He returned his focus on the buzzing noise and tried to recall where he had heard it before. Based on what he had heard in the past, he could tell that this new sound was not the same noise that the large beetles made as they flew. Intrigued, he made his way towards the buzzing sound through the bushes and trees. Looking down, he noticed that there were many tracks belonging different creatures traveling in the same direction as he was. As he got closer, he realized that the sound he was hearing was not made by a single creature, but a whole colony of them. 

Pushing through the last bit of undergrowth, he emerged into a flower strewn meadow with a single dead tree in its center. A quick look at the flowers revealed to him what was making all the buzzing sounds, bees! While they were of different coloration than the ones from his home world, he watched as they visited the flowers and returned to their hive, laden with pollen. He scanned the meadow and noticed that it had a planned, but overgrown look to it, like the dew pond above his mistress's cave. A gentle breeze was causing the flowers and the leaves of the trees that ringed this meadow to slowly dance. Seeing no other beasts around, he carefully took his first step into the clearing.

Seeing no reaction from the alien bees to his intrusion into their domain, he continued to slowly walk across the meadow towards the dead tree. As he neared it he caught a glimpse of something golden colored inside the tree. He struggled to control himself as his mouth watered at possibility of tasting something sweet for the first time in over a year. He stopped and considered the possibilities of being poisoned, or being stung to death by these strange looking bees. Looking for answers, he studied the tracks made by the various beasts that visited this place. All of the tracks that lead to the bee's hive were normal and evenly spaced apart, but the tracks leaving the hive were in strange directions and uneven. While, he did not know what to make of the strange tracks, the lack of blood-splatters and bones convinced him it was safe for him at least to approach the bee's hive. 

After a few more uneventful steps, he stood next to the hive and listened. The buzzing from the bees seemed calm and relaxed. Sensing no hostility to his presence, he started looking into the various holes in the tree trunk and became amazed at the similarity between Earth's and this world's bees. Soon, his thoughts changed from should he try some of this alien honey and to how to get some instead. He considered smoking the bees out, using long sticks to rupture the honeycomb structures he saw, and even reaching into the hive with his bare hands and breaking a piece off. However, with each violent method he considered he noticed the buzzing from the alien bees seemed to get angrier as if the hive could sense his intentions. He backed away from the bee hive slowly and put a stop to his scheming. After a few moments, the buzzing of the hive calmed down.

He reexamined the tracks that lead to the bee hive and wondered how the various beasts were acquiring honey from this hive. As his gaze followed the tracks leading up to the tree, he noticed that all of them gathered under a single branch that had grown off the main trunk. Putting his ear against this branch, he heard there were individual bees inside it buzzing. Running his fingers through the dirt below the hollow branch did not reveal any congealed honey mixed with it. Mystified, he sat on the exact spot that all the beast tracks converged and looked up. Above him, he saw a hole in the hollow branch and wondered if beasts just sat here, like he was, and opened their mouths and waited for a drop of honey to fall.

Just as soon as he finished that thought, he spied a small golden drop started to form in the hole of the hollow branch. He slowly rose and watched in amazement as the gold colored drop got larger and larger. Soon, it was hanging precariously on the edge of the hole. He wondered if the solution to this puzzle was really that simple. All that he had to do was just sort of reach over...

And... 

As soon as he positioned the palm of his hand under the golden drop, it fell. He brought the resulting silver dollar sized golden spatter to his nose and sniffed. The smell was a perfect match to what he remembered what honey smelling like and his willpower suddenly broke. He intentionally bypassed all of his usual tests for poisonous substances and slapped the palm of his hand over mouth and began to lick the golden mess clean from his hand. Somehow, the flavor was even better than he had recalled. As he nosily slurped, he started hearing the buzzing of the bee hive change. He was not sure, but it started to sound like someone was trying to talk to him through an improperly tune radio.

All too soon, the honey on his hand and in his mouth were gone and he started wishing for more. Soon, another golden drop formed and when he reached out a second time, it fell onto the palm of his hand. Again, as he greedily slurped up the golden sweetness, the voice in the buzzing was becoming more noticeable. As he finished his second helping, he was now hearing bits of words among the constant buzzing. While he found what he was hearing strange, it did not stop him from requesting and receiving a third helping of the alien honey. He was about half way through his third dose of golden sweetness, when he heard the voice in the buzzing say something clearly.

"Too greedy" 

He backed away slowly from the hive not sure if his mind was playing tricks on him or if he really heard someone talking to him. In his mouth, he started to taste key lime pie instead of honey. While this new flavor was not bad, but what made him uneasy was the fact that as soon he identified the new taste in his mouth, it changed again. After spending a few minutes of playing "guess the flavor", he became aware that he was no longer hearing anything. The sound of the wind, the buzzing of the bees, and even the sound of his own breathing was replaced by a strange hum that seemed to emanate from inside his head. He closed his eyes and tried to scream, but could not even feel the sensation of air traveling through his vocal cords. Finally, he realized something was very wrong when he discovered that he could not reopen his eyes again.

Everything else faded into blackness and his senses of touch, hearing, smell, and taste faded away as well. As this strange void enveloped him, he began to panic. Desperately, he searched for something that indicated that he was still alive and in the darkness he found something he could still feel. It was the beating of his own heart. Summoning all his willpower, he commanded his heart to beat faster and it obeyed. As his pulse quickened, his other senses started to return and gradually his eyes reopened.

The world was now tilted at a strange angle and continued tilt further to one side. He tried moving his limbs, but discovered that they refused to move. Only his eyes were slowly obeying his commands to turn in their sockets. As he observed the increasingly off kilter world around him, he noticed one of the alien bees slowly flying across his field of vision. Focusing on this small creature, he watched its wings cycled through their motions for flight in extreme slow motion. This observance gave him his first clue about what was happening to him. Seeking further evidence, he tried looking in the direction the world was tilting. He waited for what seemed to take minutes for his eyes to obey his will. Once they did, he saw ground was leisurely making its way towards him.

He was reassured by this new evidence and started to come up with an explanation for what he was experiencing. Based on the strange beast tracks leading away from the alien bee hive, the strange talking he heard, the sudden changes in his perception, and the fact that the ground was taking its sweet time meeting him lead him to hypothesize that the honey he had just consumed was hallucinogenic. As a result, he was now having what the Hippies back home would call a "bad trip". Accepting that there was nothing he could do about his current situation, he relaxed as best he could and spent his time watching the alien bees perform their slow motion takeoffs and landings. After what seemed to him to be an hour, the ground hit him. 

Suddenly, the use of his limbs were restored as well his sense of balance. Sensing that he face down, he rolled himself on his back and looked up at the sky. The clouds above him were now racing across the sky and the alien bees were now darting about at speeds that made humming birds look slow. He sat up and noticed that the shadows around him were moving too quickly as well. The realization that his perception of time had now swung to the other other extreme caused him to place one of his hands on his heart. He felt it racing and understood that he was still freaking out as a result of his earlier panicking. Now aware of the effect his current mental state was having on this "trip", he focused on his heart again and calmed himself. Gradually, time resumed its proper flow.

Finally in control of his own emotions, he cleared his mind and waited for the full effect the alien honey would have on him. Soon, he noticed the colors around began to intensify and he had an awakening feeling, like he was rising up from a deep slumber. Next, the urge to dance compelled him to rise up and begin to waltz with himself. Although he could not sense his feet, he did not make any miss steps, stumble, or even crush a flower under his boots as he danced through the flower strewn meadow. After a few minutes, second awakening feeling hit him and new thoughts and ideas started popping into his mind while he continued to dance. One of which was about the strange folk. Despite the fact that he had only seen a few dozen individuals, those he had seen shared many traits with the beasts he had hunted, as if they were related. 

Another awakening sensation, not as powerful as the first two, came upon him and the colors of the flowers around him started to glow. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a disruption in the way gentle swaying of the leaves and stopped dancing. Based on the shape and size this disruption, he deduce that this disruption was one of the ambush predators was skulking in the undergrowth nearby. While it was smaller than the others he had hunted, in his current unarmed state, he understood that even this small ambush predator could severely hurt him before he could beat it to death with is fists. Not wanting to test his luck any further, he left the alien bee's meadow.

As he traveled back to his mistress's cave, he spontaneously began singing a song from his favorite band. Soon, the song he had sung compelled him to start thinking about the people he knew, and the world he left. The wave of depression that crash down on him caused him to recognize that he was terribly homesick. Seeking a quick end to this terrible feeling he reaffirmed the promise he made to himself when he was still his mistress's slave, which was to find a way back home. But, that made this situation even worse as the memories of the few times he felt connected to this new world were suddenly recalled. Both his head and heart began to ache as he had the feeling of being pulled apart. These two conflicting ideas, to stay or to return, battled each other in an endless mental debate as he returned to his mistress. In the end, he only found peace by acknowledging while he had come a long way, he still had a lot further to go and he did not need to make that choice right now. 

With his internal debate thus settled, he resumed practicing his speech. Except, whenever came to word that he knew in both his and the strange folk's language he chose to use their word. As a result of this verbal exercise, the two languages began to blur in his mind. He was near his mistress's cave when he tried to speak the word "this" in English. But, what came out of his mouth unexpectedly was the other new word that his mistress had used when she was threatening to force feed him during their last few bouts. The more he thought about the meaning of this word and his mistress's responses to his attempts at sleuthing its meaning, the more he became convinced that he had finally figured out what it meant.

Back inside the cave, he saw that his mistress was still sleeping. Figuring that he could wait a little longer, he chose not to wake her. Instead, he tried to lie down to sleep, but the effects of the alien honey that were still in his system prevented any rest. After tossing and turning for a few hours, he heard his mistress wake up and retreat into the back chamber. He focused on her movements and in his mind he could clearly see her as she walked over to the wall with the many tiny figures and began to make alterations to it. He shook his head in attempt to purge what he thought he was imagining and wished that the awakened he was still feeling would go away so he could finally go to sleep. After another restless hour, the awakened feeling seemed to fade, or he got used to it. Thankful for either case, he found rest at last. 

He was able to get, what appeared to him, a few hours of rest in before he felt a familiar pain in his ribs. His mistress was there looking down at him again. Before he had a chance to do anything, she dropped one of the bags she had stitched near him and spoke the word for "pick up". Quickly, he understood that this was an opportunity to get confirmation. He rose, pointed at the bag, spoke the strange folk's words for "pick up this" and carefully watched his mistress's response. She smiled a bit and spoke, in a relieved tone, her people's word for "yes".

Happy with his success, he picked up the bag and started preparing all of his gear for another competitive hunt with his mistress. This time-consuming action taxed his mistress's limited patience and she began shouting in a more commanding tone the words for "come" and "go". He reexamined all of his gear and decided to bring the basic essentials he thought he needed for the hunt: his bow, a quiver of arrows, and a skinning knife. As soon as he finished strapping his gear on, he watched his mistress went to the boulder that blocked the cave's entrance and push it aside. Looking through the entrance, he saw that the sun had not set yet and it was too bright for his mistress to be going outside. Quickly, he realized that he had slept through the night and most of the next day due to the alien honey messing with internal sense of time. He walked outside and stood in the light and looked at her perplexed. His mistress rolled her eyes and blocked the entrance and then dashed past him and into the nearest available shadow. From there she shouted the word for "come". 

Wondering what his mistress was up to, he followed after her and just as he reached her, she dashed towards another shady spot further away from the cave. He repeated this annoying game with her several times, until he realized that he did not need to be worried about the sun and he understood the general direction that they were traveling in. He jogged along as his mistress dashed from shadow to shadow for the first few hours. Once the sun had slipped past the horizon far enough, his mistress was able to travel normally. Watching the various landmarks drift past on their trek, he came to the conclusion that his mistress was taking him far out of his usual hunting grounds. After several more hours of jogging after her, he heard the sounds of creatures fighting. As he got closer to the noise, he started to see flames appearing and disappearing ahead. Noticing that his mistress had started crawling towards the sounds of fighting, he did the same. Finally, he saw what was making all the noise and flames.

Dragons!


	14. Here There Be

At first he could not believe his eyes and had to close and reopen them several times to make sure he was not hallucinating. Despite the incredible variety of life he had so far encountered on this world, he was amazed by the three dragons he now saw. He made note of their features: wings, fiery breath, and colorful scales. After watching the dragons battle each other for a few minutes, he realized that these creatures were not fighting, but were in fact playing and, occasionally, he observed the dragons would lose a scale in their rough housing. Estimating the size of their bodies without their wings to be as half as large as himself, he wondered if there were even larger dragons elsewhere on this strange world. Amazed, he continued to be fascinated at their antics.

He was pulled out of his reverie by his mistress speaking the words for "pick up this". Looking at her, he saw that she was holding one of the colorful scales that had come from one of the dragons. As his mistress put it into her bag, he noticed that she had already quite a few of them in it already. Based on her demeanor, he understood that gathering the dragon scales was this night's competition. Ignoring the dragons, he watched his mistress sneak around and randomly reach down and pick up something. Again, she repeated her previous utterance and held it up the object so it could reflect the moonlight. It was another scale. Trying his luck, he started searching the differing shades of gray and black on the ground for anything that resembled a scale. Not finding any, he took a step and felt something break under his boot. Fearing the worst, he examined what he had tread on. Raising the broken pieces into the moon light, he could see that it too was a dragon scale. 

Sighing, he wondered what was the point of this competition. He knew that without a source of light he would be unable to find any scales. Suddenly, the area began to brighten considerably. He looked at the source of it and noticed that one of dragons was belching a particularly large blast of flame. Under this dragon he saw the ground was sparkling like the stars in the sky above for a few moments and then faded. He made a quick estimation that there were hundreds of scales around and underneath the dragons. Wondering if the same trick of light could illuminate the scales near him, he waited for one of the dragons to repeat their fiery display. Soon, his patience was rewarded and he saw that there were a few twinkling motes of light near him. He quickly pounced on these, but to his dismay, all he could find were broken scales.

Frustrated, he gripped a piece of dragon scale in his hand so tightly that it broke into smaller pieces. He looked at the colorful contents of his hand and wondered if there was a way for him beat his mistress at this one-sided scavenger hunt. Then, inspiration struck him. He took one of his arrows from his quiver and applied its obsidian point against the largest piece of the shattered dragon scale in his hand. That piece of scale broke before the arrow's obsidian tip did. A wicked smile appeared on his face when he realized that he had the means to not only catch up with his mistress, but possibly to surpass her! 

Sneaking closer, he saw that the dragons were still busy with their horse play. He readied his bow and notched an arrow. As he drew fully on his bow, he targeted the dragon who was hovering near the other two, occasionally blasting the pair with its fiery breath. He held his shot as he tried to get a feel for the way this dragon bobbed up and down as it hovered in place. Behind him, his ears detected his mistress rapidly approaching. He suspected that she was going to try something to spoil his one chance at making this competition a fair one. To prevent that from happening, he fired the arrow from his bow. Just as the arrow left his finger tips, he heard her whisper the word for "stop". The arrow flew and pierced the dragon he had aimed at, causing it to fall to the ground unmoving.

The two other dragons stopped their play immediately and crawled over to their fallen companion. He started to feel remorse as he watched the two dragons try to nudge the third into showing signs of life. Those feelings quickly changed when he saw the dragons discover the arrow lodged in the body of their deceased playmate and sniffed at it. The hairs on the back of his stood up as he became aware that he neglected to check in which direction the breeze was traveling before making his shot. He moistened his thumb and held it up and away from himself. The tense feeling inside him only grew as the coldness on his thumb told him the same thing that the pair of dragon snouts sniffing in his direction did, they could smell him! 

Again, time seemed to slow down as he reached for another arrow. He was certain he could kill another one of the dragons before they reached him. But, just as his fingers touched his supply of arrows, he suffered an extremely vivid vision. In this vision, the night was as bright as the day and at some distance, where two figures. One was a lady wearing a stylish, but serviceable hat which was impaled on her horns. The other figure, who was in the process of falling flat on his face, was wearing a hood and had a bow in one hand. Then, the vision and everything else faded into blackness. He had the sensation of falling, but that quickly went away. As did his senses of touch, hearing, smell, and taste. As he felt this familiar void envelope him, he searched for the one thing he could use to pull himself out of it. That was the beating of his own heart. 

Again, he focused all of the willpower he had into making his heart beat faster. As the pace of his heart quickened, he started sensing that his bow was still in one of his hands. He continued to will his heart to beat faster and, gradually, more of the waking world became revealed. His vision was the last of his senses to be restored. As he opened his eyes, he felt like he had just recovered from the effects of a knock out punch. Realizing that he was face-down on the ground, he got up and looked at his mistress. The look of fear on her face and the way she was backing away from told him what his next action should be, ABSCOND!

The sound of flapping wings alerted him to the approaching dragons. He gripped his bow with bow hands and waited for the combat instincts that his mistress had beaten into him to tell him to strike. When the moment arrived, he clubbed the first dragon into the ground. Then, he made an additional attack against the other dragon coming for him. But, the second dragon caught his bow with its mouth and wrenched his weapon from his grasp with its powerful jaws. Knowing that he was now disarmed, he turned, dived into the thickest undergrowth he could find, and looked back. The dragon who had robbed him of his bow, was now shaking it like a small dog would do so to a rat. The first dragon quickly recovered and made its way near the one with his bow and started sniffing the ground. When it caught his scent, it folded its wings tightly against its body and charged into the undergrowth after him. 

He resumed his efforts at absconding. As he crawled on all fours, he could hear the dragon behind him crashing through the vegetation. Based on the noise it was making, he was just barely keeping ahead of it. Recognizing that he did not have infinite reserves of stamina to race with, he searched for a way to deter his pursuer. Only to run into a low-hanging branch which stopped him in his tracks. He was about to curse it when he noticed the branch's springy nature. After getting around it, he grabbed the branch with both hands and began pulling on it. He loaded the branch with enough tension until he was certain that it was about to break and waited for the dragon that chased after him. He could hear it come closer due to its heavy breathing. Slowly, a clawed fore paw appeared on the tree and the rest of the dragon soon followed.

He looked into the dragon's eyes and was struck by another vivid vision. Again, he saw the hooded figure from before and, again, the figure appeared to be suffering from a fainting spell. The bow from before was now missing. Instead, the figure was holding on to a branch from nearby tree. As the hooded figure swooned backwards, the branch slipped from the figure's grasp. He watched helplessly as the branch swung at him, hitting him on his scaly chest. Suddenly the vision started to dim.

Recalling his previous experiences with his earlier mysterious blackouts, again, he fought against the encroaching darkness. He managed to regain all of his faculties just in time for him to feel himself hit the ground. Looking up, he caught a glimpse of the dragon that had hounded him being knocked backwards into the undergrowth. Seeing an opportunity to escape, he looked around for a way out of this mess that he had gotten himself into. He knew that the dragon was able to track by smell, so he climbed up into the nearest tree. From there, he began to travel, branch by branch, away from the dragon. Once he felt that he had put enough distance between him and the dragon, he climbed down and found a place to hide under a log and waited.

As time passed, he started thinking about the blackouts and the visions that preceded them and hoped he was not suffering flash backs as a result of the alien honey he had consumed. These three blackouts were completely new to him and he could not recall any prior history of fainting. Furthermore, he felt healthy as ever, so he ruled out disease as a possible cause. As far as he could determine, the visions and the blackouts were connected. He looked at his chest and wondered if he had imagined the impact of the branch or did he really experienced what the dragon saw and felt. A frustrated, but not so far away roar distracted him from his thoughts. Soon, the sound of flapping wings departing told him the immediate danger had passed. However, his instincts to him to wait and not much later he heard the dragon roar out as it patrolled above him. He waited for dragon to make several passes to get the timing of its patrol route. Once an opening presented itself, he started the long trip back to the only place he felt safe at, his mistress's cave. 

The long trip was made longer and more time-consuming because of the dragon. No matter how far he traveled as he ran from cover to cover, the dragon somehow was able track to him to the general area he was in. He often saw it as it soared in the night sky roaring and demonstrating its anger with plumes of flame. By the time he reached the vicinity of his mistress's cave, dawn was still several hours away and he was not sure if the dragon would leave with its arrival. Furthermore, the idea of being treed by the scavengers while the dragon around did not appeal to him. The only option left made his heart sink which was a dead sprint to the cave's entrance without any cover and, then, he had to get past the boulder that blocked the entrance. Knowing what had to be done, he waited for the dragon to make its pass. Then, he sprinted. Once he reached the halfway point, he started feeling confident about his odds. That changed the instant he put his hands on the entrance boulder. At that moment, he suffered yet another vivid vision.

This time, he was diving down at the hooded figure and there was an intense heat building in his throat.

He struggled to shake off the vision, but was only partially successful in resisting it and, as a result, was now seeing two things at the same time: the boulder before him and the hooded figure clinging to it. Despite his best efforts, his body refused to move and all he could do was to barely support his own weight. Behind him, he could hear the dragon's roar and watched as the boulder he was leaning against was illuminated by a light quickly that grew in intensity. Simultaneously, the hooded figure in the vision was replaced by blinding white hot light. He knew that he was about to be directly hit by the dragon's fiery attack. Recalling the effect the last two times he passed out, he realized that he had one final means of dodging the fiery death meant for him. He ceased all his efforts at resisting and relaxed.

Starting with his vision, his senses left him, until all he could sense was the rough surface of the entrance boulder as his face slid against it. He tried to keep track of how far his body moved in this last ditch attempt at dodging the dragon's fire. But, he was interrupted by a searing pain on his head that snapped him back into reality. Instantly, he understood that he managed to evade the dragon's breath. He regained his footing as he reflexively slapped at the top of his head in an effort to cease the burning sensation he felt there. Then, he turned from the now charred and still smoldering entrance boulder and looked to the sky. The dragon was already starting to wheel around for another attack run on him. He put his hands on the entrance boulder, only to yank them away when he felt the stinging heat the boulder had absorbed from the dragon's attack. Risking a second glance at the dragon, he saw that it had nearly completed its aerial maneuver. Knowing what had to be done, he spit into his hands and rubbed them together, then placed them on the searing hot boulder. He started to scream as a faint hiss emanated from his hands. Fighting through the pain, he forced the boulder back far enough to begin slipping past it. 

He felt yet another vision about to overcome him, but the pain from the top of his head and hands kept him rooted in reality. The vision seemed to flicker into view and out again repeatedly as he entered the cave. As he pushed the boulder back into its place, he saw another bright light began illuminating it from the outside. He watched the light grow into blinding intensity before taking cover behind the entrance boulder. A second later, he felt the boulder shudder as flames briefly poured through any crack or crevice around it. He spent the next minute wondering if he was finally safe from the dragon and brushing the burnt hair from the top of his head. He got his answer when heard the dragon cease flapping its wings and let out another angry roar. Quickly, he threw his body against the only thing that keeping the dragon from him and hoped that the dragon was not strong or smart enough to gain entrance to the cave.

After a few failed attempts of forcing its way in, he could hear the dragon began sniffing around the entrance boulder. Once it located the large gap, he watched as the dragon inserted its long snout into the cave and inhaled deeply. He smugly smiled when he realized that the dragon could not hit him with its breath based on where its snout was pointed. Feeling safe at last, he breathed out a sigh of relief. However, The instant he relaxed he suffered another vision. This time, there was not much to see, just his scaly snout stuck between a cave wall and the boulder blocking its entrance, but there was something new this time.

What made this vision different from the previous ones was the smell of sweat and burnt hair. After nearly blacking out and fighting his way back to consciousness again, the idea that these blackouts and visions were being caused by the dragon finally entered his mind. This notion seemed ludicrous to him at first. Such things only happened in comic books he reminded himself. But, the growing evidence became overwhelming. With this new awareness, he started wondering if there was some way of blocking or preventing this unique attack, instead of recovering after succumbing to it. He did not get far in his pondering due to another mental attack from the dragon. Recalling that pain seemed to help him recover his senses quickly, he grabbed a nearby stone and bludgeoned himself with it.

For the next few hours, he mentally fought the dragon. Eventually, he was able to sense whenever the dragon tried to push into his mind and, eventually, how to block it. He discovered that the fight-or-flight response that provided him with a defense. However, triggering that response took its toll on his mind in the form a terrible migraine. Furthermore, it was not a perfect defense as using it was like tensing a muscle. Sooner or later, he had to relax and when he did, the dragon was quick to give him another piece of its mind. As the mental battle progressed he noticed new sensations were accompanying the visions. Touch, taste, and sound from the dragon's perspective flooded his mind whenever he lowered his mental guard. Then, something new was communicated. He did not know if it he was him or the dragon who was adapting to the other. But, what he felt coming from dragon chilled him when it next breached his mental defenses chilled him.

Burning rage! 

Reflecting on his prior experiences with animals from both his home world and this one, he had noticed that beasts of both worlds could become enraged as a result of them being hungry, in pain, or while defending their homes. But, what he felt this time was different and personal. As far as he could tell, the dragon was not hungry, nor could it be defending its lair after it had chased him such a long way. His reasoning came to only remaining motivator remaining, pain. He recalled that he had hit this dragon with his bow and the tree branch, but those were blows inflicted after the dragon had already targeted him.

With his head throbbing, he searched his memories for the singular event that drew the dragon's ire and accidentally lowered his mental defenses. Instantly, he felt the dragon push into his mind and he struggled to remain conscious as he continued searching for source of conflict between him and the dragon. The answer came to him in yet another vision. This time, what he saw was from dragon's perspective was the dragon that he had shot and killed earlier that night. Furthermore, there were feelings of grief and sorrow that accompanied this vision. Suddenly, everything made sense to him and he realized that his mistress's attempt at stopping him was not some competitive ploy. But, a warning that these dragons, which appeared to be simple beasts at first, were highly intelligent. Soon, his own feelings of remorse and shame over killing one of these incredible creatures mixed with the feelings he was receiving from the dragon. As a result of being overcome by all these emotions, he silently wished he could undo his actions and made a promise to himself that he would never harm another dragon ever again if he managed to live through this encounter.

As soon as he had made that promise, he felt the dragon's presence vanish from his mind and soon heard wings flapping. He got up and peeked through the crack the dragon had used to sniff him out. Morning was about to arrive and off in the distance he saw the dragon flying away. He sat back down and placed his back on the entrance boulder again. Then, finally feeling safe, he began to massage the painfully throbbing headache in his head away.

It was not long before he felt the boulder shifting against his back. Due to his prolonged mental battle with the dragon, his self preservation instincts activated instantly. He quickly turned around and grabbed the entrance boulder tightly. Heart racing, he wondered briefly if the dragon had come back. But, he soon ruled that possibility out when he did not detect any attempts at mental contact. After a few minutes of blocking whatever was on the other side of this boulder, he realized that it knew that it could roll the boulder out its way. Worse, based on the sounds it was making it was getting angrier and stronger the longer he frustrated its entry.


	15. Mixed Signals

After a few more minutes struggle, he came to the conclusion that he could not secure the entrance for much longer. He searched the cave for the nearest convenient weapon and saw in the middle of the cave, leaning against the wall, was one of his spears. Cursing himself for not locking the entrance boulder in place when he had the chance, he braced himself against the boulder with his legs. Then, he waited until the the creature's strength increased until it would be able to dislodge him with its next attempt to enter the cave. When that moment arrived, he leaped from the boulder, grabbed his spear as he passed by, and headed into the dark corridor that lead into the second chamber of his mistress's cave. 

His rapid absconding into the darkness resulted in him repeatedly banging his head against the rough hewn walls of the corridor as he traveled down it. Once he entered the second chamber, he stopped near the opening with his spear at the ready to strike at anything he heard approaching. Minutes passed, gradually his heart stopped pounding and he was able to listen to the sounds that traveled down the corridor into the chamber he was in. First, he heard wood being dropped which was soon followed by a familiar metallic tapping. After a bit, he heard the crackle and pop of a fire followed by the sound of something sizzling. Finally, after smelling cooking meat, the more rational parts of his mind were able to overcome the paranoia induced by recent events.

He carefully traveled down the corridor that linked the chambers of his mistress's cave together. This time, the trip was made easier by a light at the other end. He hesitated briefly before entering the main chamber. As he stepped into the light created by the cooking fire he saw what he should have realized from the moment he felt the entrance boulder move against his back. The mysterious monster trying to force its way into the cave was his mistress. Based on the way she glared at him, he knew she still very angry at him for blocking her way into the cave. However, he noticed that her glaring soon faded and that she was desperately trying to stifle a giggling fit. He followed her eyes to the top of his head and started to pull the hood of his cloak back. He winced in pain and noticed that in some spots on his head the hood felt like it had adhered to his scalp! With a final pull, he removed the hood completely. At this point, his mistress lost her composure and burst out laughing. In the instant his fingers touched the top of his head, he knew that his attempt at avoiding the dragon's fire had been only a partial success.

Most of his hair had been burnt off! 

Ignoring his mistress's laughter, he continued to lightly touch his scale in an attempt to assess the damage he had suffered. Then, fearing the worst, he started to remove the rest of cloak from his shoulders. Again, he suffered the painful sensation that some of his skin on his neck and shoulders had become adhered to his cloak. With several grunts of pain, he pulled his hooded cloak and inspected it. He noticed that all over the top and back of the hood of the cloak had blackened due to being burnt by the dragon's fire. Suddenly, the full pain of his burns hit him as the adrenaline in his system began to wane. He ran his fingers over the coarse stitching of his burnt hooded cloak and recognized that the burns he felt on his body matched them perfectly. He understood that it was his own crude stitching that allowed minute portions of the dragon's flame to find their way to his skin. He closed his eyes and imagined what would have been the result if he had not worn his hooded cloak. The image his mind conjured up made him shudder.

Another bout of uncontrolled laughter from his mistress distracted him. To silence her, he found one of his spare obsidian knives and started the long process of removing the reverse mohawk given to him by the dragon. As he did so, he examined what his mistress had brought back from their encounter with the dragons. In the fire was a freshly butchered lizard-like creature that estimated to be as half as large as him. On the ground near her where several bags stuffed full of shimmering scales from the dragons. In between cutting bits of hair from his own head, he watched as his mistress held a scale near the fire and studied it carefully. A few moments, she smiled and put the dazzling scale into a nearly empty bag. After his mistress had repeated this action several more times, he understood that she was sorting the scales for some purpose. Judging from the sheer amount of scales his mistress had collected, he guessed that she had scoured the dragons' play area clean after he had been forced to abscond.

He finished with his haircut and carefully ran his fingers over his scalp felt the blisters that had formed. His mistress made her thoughts known by giggling at him. However, the giggling soon changed to exclaims of wonder. He looked at his mistress to see what she was gushing about. In between her thumb and forefinger, his mistress held a dragon scale. Like the others, it shimmered in the light of the cooking fire, but more brightly than any before. Furthermore, the closer his mistress brought the scale to the fire, the greater the light show it performed. He became bewitched by what he was seeing. Suddenly, the display of dancing light ceased and he heard his mistress shout in pain and her sticking fingers into her mouth. Guessing that his mistress got her fingers burnt, he started looking for a way to retrieve the dragon scale from the cooking fire.

He picked up a stick and started towards the cooking fire, but his mistress calmly shooed him away. Then, she reached into yet another bag and pulled out a hide that clearly once belonged to the creature cooking on the fire. Upon seeing the hide shimmer and sparkle in the cooking fire's light, he instantly knew where and how she had acquired it. A deep feeling of renewed guilt struck him as he recognized both the hide and the carcass cooking on the fire were from the dragon he had shot. He did not blame his mistress. He understood that she was opportunistic and he did not suspect any scheming from her. In fact, he recalled that she tried to stop him. He was distracted from guilty conscience when he saw his mistress use the dragon's hide as an overgrown oven mitt and reach into the cooking fire. After fishing around for a bit, she retrieved the dragon's scale she had dropped in the fire and blew on it to cool it down. After a quick cleaning, the dragon scale resumed its impressive light show. Then, his mistress put down the dragon's hide and started walking down the corridor to the second chamber with her new treasure. 

He found it difficult to believe what he had just observed and the urge to repeat the experiment for himself was overwhelming. After waiting for a few moments to make sure that his mistress was not coming back for anything else, he made his way towards the dragon's hide, picked it up, and draped it over one of his hands. Slowly, he reached into the fire with his covered hand and retrieved a burning ember from the fire. He could not feel any heat coming through the dragon's hide. Amazed, he wondered if it were the scales or the hides that provided the thermal protection. He searched his mistress's bags for a large dragon scale and held it in the palm of his other hand. Then, he carefully rolled the cherry red ember onto the dragon scale. He could not feel any coming through the scale. After a few minutes, he heard his mistress returning. Quickly, concealed the evidence of his experimentation and went back to his part of the cave so he could try to sleep.

A week later, the blisters on his burns healed and after another week had passed he could feel there was new hair growing on his head. During this recovery time, he watched his mistress stockpile hides and other trade goods in the cave. Quickly, her trophies piled up and made walking around in the cave a bothersome. Then, his mistress stopped her hunting spree and started processing and organizing her spoils of the hunt. He recognized this behavior from before, when she took him to communal camp to barter and wondered when this barter session was going to happen. The answer to his question arrived the next day when he entered the cave after visiting the dew pond. On the ground in front of him was the very large backpack that she had forced him to wear so long ago. 

Strong emotions were suddenly evoked in him at the sight of it. Feeling betrayed, he asked himself if his mistress was going to attempt to take back the limited freedom that he had earned. He thought for a minute and understood that was not a factor, as he had proven that he would kill her or be killed by her, or any other of the strange folk that tried to make him a pet or a slave ever again. Refocusing on his personal resolution to get back home, somehow, calmed him somewhat. He recalled that there had not been any sparring since the incident with the dragons, and wondered if his mistress in another one of her more bellicose moods again and this was her way of provoking him. He looked at his mistress and studied her body language. She was glaring at him in her usual way, but she was still sitting and her sword was still in its sheath. Fighting against his own anger, he accepted the possibility that he was misreading this situation and started seeing his mistress's problem from her perspective. He knew well that it was dangerous outside and being weighted down would only multiplied that concern. Furthermore, her skills as a warrior and hunter surpassed his and the idea of him becoming her pack beast again started to make sense to him. 

Grudgingly, he made the choice to help his mistress, but there was still one issue he needed to resolve before assuming his old role. He unwound the metal chain from around his beast's collar and held its end tightly in his fist. For the first time in what seemed like months, he felt the pricks of the inward facing teeth of the collar on his neck. Once he had full control of his emotions, he pointed to the chain that was attached to his collar and spoke a word in the strange folk's language, "mine". Carefully, he studied his mistress's facial expressions for clues of her emotional state as she thought on how to answer. For several seconds the emotion on his mistress's face was of hatred, but that gave way to, what appeared to to him, remorse as she reply with the word for "yes". This, he realized, was the closest thing to a request he was going to get out of his mistress.

With that matter settled, he examined the backpack and examined the many straps and fittings on it. As he suspected, the old pack still had the fittings that made it impossible to take it off or put it on by himself. After a minute of study, he grabbed his collection of tools and started modifying the pack. His efforts drew his mistress attention and he noticed that was she watching him throughout the alteration process. Several rounds of trying on the pack and further modifications later, he not only had a pack that he put on by himself, but remove in a hurry as well with a few quick pulls on the releasing straps he installed. Furthermore, he made a few adjustments so that the pack was surprisingly comfortable on his back, despite its heavy load. The final alteration he made was to conceal one of his spears among the contents in the pack, so he had something to fight with if the situation his mistress was taking him into required it. By the time he had finished and was ready to go, the red sun had set far enough for both of them to leave the cave. He waited patiently as his mistress pushed the entrance boulder out of the way. Then, she stopped and held out her empty hand. Understanding that they were going to be seen by others, he willingly placed the end of his metal leash into his mistress's hand and walked outside. After she rolled the entrance boulder back into its place, they set off. 

Once again, his mistress lead him on another long journey that took him out of the areas he usually hunted in. Not once during the trip did his mistress attempt to assert dominance by pulling harshly on the chain. Instead, he occasionally caught her looking back at him in what appeared to be disbelief. Eventually, they discovered a pair of lines with hoof tracks between them. Recognizing that this trail belonged to a wagon, he searched both sides of the track for any trace of slaves walking in single file. Not finding any allowed him to relax a bit. After another hour of following the wagon trail, he started to smell smoke. When he saw the campfire, the wagon and, finally, its owner, his mistress spoke the word for "stay", pulled something out of the pack he wore, and traveled ahead with her sword drawn. 

He chose not obey her command and sneaked as close as he could so he could watch this barter session. At first, his mistress got the attention of the wagon owner by shouting from a respectable distance. Next, came several verbal exchanges. Based on the wagon owner's suspicious tone, he suspected that his mistress was being interrogated. Of which she endured many minutes of hard questioning until finally cracking. He watched as his obviously frustrated mistress threw something towards the wagon owner. The way the object sparkled when it landed near the campfire allowed him to identify it with ease. It was a dragon scale and after being picked up by the wagon owner, it appeared to have a mollifying effect on them. He noticed that the wagon owner quickly dropped the hard questioning and adopted a more friendly attitude towards his mistress and, soon, he heard her shout the command for him to approach. As he did so, he tried to focus on the words his mistress and the wagon owner were using. They appeared to be using numbers based on the ever-changing number of fingers they were showing to each other. But, he was too distracted by a leery feeling he had to learn any new words. As neared the two, he finally discovered what was missing! 

This wagon owner was not using a scale to trade with! 

Obeying his mistress's commands, he approached her. As he neared the wagon, he got a good look at the well muscled creature that pulled the wagon. It was bigger the previous ones he had seen but seemed to lack the usual assortment of scars on its body. A second look revealed that the musclebeast was still attached to the yoke of the wagon as if the its owner was prepared to abscond at a moment's notice. As he walked past the musclebeast toward his mistress, he could feel it glaring at him. He ignored this threatening behavior and stood next to his mistress. She sheathed her sword, pointed to the ground near her, and commanded him to sit. Forced to play his role as her packbeast, he obeyed.

He listened to the negotiations between the wagon owner and his mistress. But, the feeling of something being wrong persisted no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. After a few minutes of back and forth banter, which he understood little of, the wagon owner lifted a flap on the side of the wagon and allow his mistress to peek into it. Suddenly, she became really excited about something and began to take items from the pack he was wearing. The wagon owner entered the wagon and emerged with object his mistress wanted. Curious, he risked a peek and saw that it was a large metal stew pot. It struck him as an odd thing to be excited about. Especially, since he knew that his mistress's preferences for meat ran from completely raw to completely burnt. Furthermore, he suspected that she secretly liked his cooking, based on all the food thefts she had perpetrated against him. 

The sound of renewed haggling drew his attention again. This time he paid careful attention to the words being used. But, the uneasy feeling returned. After several rounds of bargaining he understood why. The trading scale still was not being used, the pile of offered of hides and dragon scales did not stop from getting taller, and the wagon owner was friendly, too friendly for someone who just a little while ago was so suspicious of his mistress. Thinking on this further, he realized that something was very wrong. He watched his mistress and noticed every time after she made an addition to the offered items pile, she seemed to suffer a brief moment of befuddlement. Then, his mistress and the wagon owner would repeat their words used during the last round of bargaining exactly as before. If it were not for the slowly growing smile on the wagon owner's face and the growing trade goods pile, he would have thought that his mistress and the wagon owner were stuck in some surreal time loop.

Suddenly, his intuition told him that his mistress was in danger. The dire portent was confirm when he felt his mistress for the first time on this trip pull him closer via the metal leash. Suppressing his anger towards her, he focused on coming up with a plan to save his mistress and at the same time, not blow his cover as a packbeast. By the time he felt his mistress reach into the pack he was wearing again, he had one. Recalling that the other strange folk treated his accidentally spoken English words as mere "animal noises", he remembered that his mistress knew one word of English. He jumped away from her as far as his metal leash would let him and shouted out in English, "NO!" 

He looked at her he saw that his mistress had her eyes closed and appeared to be fighting whatever had a hold of her. The metal leash started to slip through her hands as he pulled on it so he could have some additional slack. But, his hopes started to vanish as his mistress's posture suddenly stiffened and when she reopened her eyes, they had a strange far away look to them. He quickly searched the vicinity for something to explain his mistress's strange behavior. When his gaze landed on the wagon owner, whose hands were at head height and who was intensely focused on his mistress, he suspected that he had found the reason. His experience with the dragons allowed him to accept the possibility that some of the strange folk might have similar powers. Although he was not completely sure, he tested his hypothesis by charging the wagon owner.

He barely traveled a single stride before the collar around his neck brought him to a halt. After reaching out with his hands, he let out a frustrated scream when he realized was mere inches away from grabbing the wagon owner by the throat. Ignoring the wet feeling coming from his neck, he looked back at his mistress and noticed she still had that vacant stare on her face and an iron grasp on his leash. Behind him he heard the wagon owner whistle and saw, just for a second, his mistress recover her senses before losing them again. This was all the evidence he needed to prove that the wagon owner was the cause of his mistress's problems.

However, before he had a chance to do anything, he heard the musclebeast that was attached to the yoke of the wagon grumble angrily. He watched as the musclebeast carefully freed itself from the yoke of the wagon and started walking towards its owner. Upon watching this spectacle, he reasoned that if this musclebeast could be trained to free itself from the wagon, then pulling a few quick-release straps should not draw too much attention. Especially since the wagon owner had their full attention on his mistress. He reached into the backpack on him and pulled out his spear and freed him himself from the burden on his back. The musclebeast responded by reaching towards the nearby camp fire.

The musclebeast showed no fear as it pulled the largest piece of wood from the fire and brandished it in a threatening manner. Unimpressed, He locked eyes with the musclebeast and began to study it. After comparing its reach with the flaming club it was now armed with versus his reach with the spear in his hands estimated that he had a six inch advantage. However, his instincts told him the flaming club was not the real danger, rather that the hooves of this creature. He knew that a kick from a horse could kill a man and this musclebeast put draft horses to shame. Thinking further, he realized that the real wild-card in this battle would the amount control the wagon owner had over his mistress.

He began to run scenarios of this upcoming battle through his mind while he waited for the musclebeast to make the first move. Based on the overall intelligence the musclebeast had shown, he doubted he could trick it into impaling itself. Instead, he would rely on the six inches of advantage he had over it to blind it or bleed it to death. Even assuming that the strange folk controlling his mistress could make her fight, he thought that he would do surprisingly well. If forced to, he could use her as a temporary meat shield against the musclebeast. If there was one thing he learned from sparring with his mistress, it was that she could take a beating.

Once he knew he was going to win and was going to enjoy doing so, he stood a little taller and relaxed. All of the tension in him left and a wicked smile appeared on his face. He watched as the musclebeast danced nervously with its forelegs and looked towards the wagon owner briefly. Sensing that the musclebeast's nerve was about to break, he took a single calculated step towards it. This advance provoked an attack from the musclebeast, but his earlier estimation of the musclebeast's reach was spot on as the fiery club swung by it barely missed his head. He remained calm and continued staring down the creature before him and an odd feeling of pride came over him. Even though he had just considered letting his mistress take a few blows for him, he felt good that he was defending her now. In his mind, he resumed to imagining the seemingly endless ways of brutally defeating the musclebeast. After a few minutes, it dropped the flaming club, then slinked to the other side of the wagon to hide.

He heard an dejected sigh that came from the wagon owner and soon felt the collar on his neck being pulled. Looking back at his mistress, he saw that although she still had that vacant look on her face, she was reeling in the leash to bring him closer to her. He wondered what was going to happen next as he grudgingly walked back to his mistress's side. From there, he watched as wagon owner loaded his pack with all of the trade goods and began walking back to the wagon with it, stopping briefly to punt the metal stew pot into the bushes as if it where a piece of garbage. Next, the pack and the owner of the wagon disappeared into the wagon and another whistle came from inside it. The musclebeast meekly came out of hiding, and started the long process hitching itself to the yoke of the wagon. Once it was finished, there was a shout and the musclebeast eagerly pulled the wagon into the night.

He silently cursed himself for being unable to prevent the loss of everything his mistress hunted for. Looking at his mistress, he saw that she still had the stylish and servicable hat on her horns, her sword in its sheath, and the vacant stare from before on her face. Experimentation revealed that, with enough force, he could pull the metal leash through her hands. Until, the end of it reach her hand. Then, her grip would become like iron and no amount of twisting and thrashing could free it. It was during one of these attempts at freeing the end of his leash that he accidently pulled on the metal leash hard enough to make his mistress stumble fowards a step. Exhausted by his escape attempt, he returned to her side again to rest as she automatically reeled in the leash. Looking down at her boots, he notice that she remained still.

Figuring he was on to something, he wrapped the metal leash around his body and threw himself towards the campfire that still burned. He reasoned that the fire would keep both himself and his mistress safe from any multi-legged predators that might be lurking around. Which, left the two legged ones for him to worry about. With each stumbling step he forced her to take, he hoped that whatever spell she was under would break. But, the vacant look on her face did not vanish until the red sun started to rise above the far horizon. He watched, fascinated, as his mistress finally recovered and searched the surroundings for the missing wagon and its owner. Only, to begin screaming when she noticed the wagon and musclebeast tracks leaving the camp fire. He intervened when it appeared to him that his mistress was about chase after the wagon and its owner. Blocking her path, he pointed to the sunrise.

The threat of severe sunburn allowed him to gain his mistress's attention. While he had it, he pointed to the bushes where he saw the stew pot was kicked into. Repeating the strange folk's words for "come" and "pick up", he lead her into the bushes to search. After a few minutes, he heard his mistress cheer. The stew pot was undamaged, except for a small dent in one side. After a quick cleaning, she pushed it into his hands and spoke the words for "go" and "there" while pointing the direction back to the cave. He understood that she needed to find shelter and was not coming back with him to the cave.

As he left with the stew pot and his spear, he shook his head. All this effort seemed like a lot trouble just for stew.


	16. New Material

He traveled alone through and arrived back at the cave around noon. While tending to his needs, he wondered what his mistress saw in the stew pot. Looking closer at it he saw that it had been beaten out of sheet of metal by hundreds of hammer strikes and not a single rivet used in its manufacture. Furthermore, this stew pot had no place for a lid or handles. A quick search of his mistress's cave revealed nothing new, especially in the area of cooking utensils which suggested that her latest acquisition was not for cooking.

Eventually, the need for sleep forced him to stop his investigation. He awoke to his mistress's repeated shouting in her language of his moniker,"Beast!". By the time he was able to get up and make his way to the entrance boulder, he could hear the increasing frustration in her voice. A quick peek through one of the cracks around the entrance boulder revealed why his mistress could not enter by herself. From the tips of her horns to her hips, she was wrapped in what appeared to be white cotton candy that had been dragged through several miles of forest undergrowth based on the amount of leaves and twigs stuck in it. He found the sight a bit absurd and briefly considered messing with his mistress by refusing her entry, but when her eyes narrowed into slits, he reconsidered. He rolled the boulder out of his mistress's way and put it back once she made her way into the cave.

Once finished with the entrance boulder, he watched her as she started carefully rolling the mysterious cotton candy substance into a ball. Whatever it was, its very sticky properties were self-evident to him. The rolling process took the better part of an hour for his mistress to free most her body. Her head and her hair remained trapped giving her an appearance of some sort of cue-ball headed mascot. This sight made him laugh so hard that not even repeated angry shouts from his mistress could stop him. He only fell silent when he saw his mistress reach into the sticky white mass around her head and lifted it off her head with an angry scream. Then, she admired the product of her efforts for a few moments, until she noticed that her stylish, but serviceable hat was now trapped in the sticky mess. All of her attempts at recovering it failed and with an accepting sigh, she carefully pierced the white ball with a branch.

Knowing there had to be more to his mistress's antics, he continued watching her. Her next action was to wedge the impaled white ball of fluff into the chimney causing a copious amount of soot and ash rained down on her. Except for spending a few moments dusting herself off, she showed no signs of being bothered. Then, she grabbed the stew pot and left the cave. Looking through cracks around the entrance boulder, he saw his mistress take the path up to the dew pond. He could barely hear her walking above him and, after a few minutes, he saw her walking back to the cave. Once she reentered the cave, she got a good fire going and placed the now filled with water stew pot on it. It took a while for the water to begin boiling, but once it did, the humidity of the cave rapidly climbed to unpleasant levels. His mistress busied herself by keeping the fire well-fed with wood. 

He was about to leave the cave to escape the oppressive humidity, but something inside himself told him to wait. While staring at the impaled white wad of stuff in the rising column of steam, he caught a glimpse of something falling into the boiling stew pot beneath it. Intrigued, he walked over and held his hand under the white mass and caught the next drop. It adhered to his hand instantly and when he touched the clear substance with the fingers of his other hand the stuff bonded his fingers to each other. He quickly identified the mysterious fluid as some type of glue.

Despite his best prevention efforts, the small amount of glue he had collected in the palm of his hand managed to quickly spread everywhere over his body. By her mocking laughter, he knew that his mistress had noticed the sticky situation he was in. Even worse, he watched as she started pulling long strands of wispy fiber from the impaled wad being steamed and wrapped them, one by one, around him. Quickly, he noticed that the strands seemed to amplify the overall hindering effect the glue had on his movements. As he struggled to free himself, his mistress continued to make sport of him and his attempts at evading her resulted in him being chased. However, the interior of the cave left few directions to abscond in and due to his anger and frustration, he forgot how well his mistress could see in the dark and fled into the dark back room of cave. 

By the time he found his out of the dark back room again, his mistress had him nearly encased in the white strands. Back in the light of the fire, he recalled that he had seen these strands before. The were fibers were the same type that he had used to stitch the wound on his arm after his first hunt. He did not have to ponder the origins of these fiber further as his mistress kept up her annoying game. Fed up with her, he ran to the entrance boulder and rolled it out his way. After peeling himself off of it, he ran off in the night. From a distance, he watched his mistress stop at the cave entrance, shrug her shoulders, and put the entrance boulder back in its place. Thankful for some peace, he resumed cleaning the sticky strands off his body.

All his efforts at cleaning only succeeded at moving the sticky mess around his body. He soon realized that his main problems were his hands. They had become so encased that they now resembled boxing gloves. Needing some way to restore the use his fingers, he raised his cocooned hands to his mouth and carefully cleaned them with his teeth nearly retching with every mouthful. Once he restored the use of his fingers, he retrieved one of his spare obsidian cutting wedges in his boot and used that to carefully cut the remaining strands that were impairing his movement and resumed his cleaning. Despite his best efforts, he still felt the unpleasant stickiness of glue coating his body and decided to visit the dew pond.

He soon discovered that the cool water from the pond above the cave had a thickening effect on the glue and help reduced the glue's stickiness. He was able to roll the sticky mess from his body into a tacky, but manageable ball, by splashing water on himself. Then, taking a hint from his mistress, he impaled the ball on a short stick so his body heat would not cause the glue to liquefy again. For a moment, the thought of hurling the tacky orb at his mistress entered his mind. But he did not act on that impulse as he suddenly became intrigued at the many properties of the glue and fibers.

As an experiment, he held the ball of glue and fibers in one hand until a thin layer of glue coated his palm and fingers. Then, he dipped that hand into the pond and scooped up a handful of water. He waited for a few seconds to make sure that there no leaks before bringing his water filled hand to his mouth and sipping from it. Unlike before, the taste of the glue was completely absent. All at once, countless new ideas for water skins, waterproofed clothing, and improved weaponry started flooding his mind. So much so, he was unable to pick which to try first. After reexamining the ball of glue and fibers and for a few seconds, a wicked smile appeared on his face. At that moment, he knew exactly what experiment he wanted to try first.

He returned to the cave, partially pushed the entrance boulder out his way, and looked at his mistress. In his absence, she had taken the steamed fibers away from the fire and was now processing them. Realizing that her guard was down for the moment, he brought the sticky orb of glue and fiber towards his mouth. While he let the heat of his breath warm the sticky impaled ball, he watched it carefully for signs that it was about to fall apart. Strangely, his mistress showed no signs of interest in him or the partially opened cave entrance. Just as the sticky wad of glue and fibers was about to fall off the stick it was skewered with, she stood up. His developing combat instincts told him that now was the time to strike. He whipped the stick at his mistress and sent the glob of glue and fibers flying at the back of her head.

She ducked the incoming missile effortlessly.

He suddenly had sick feeling in his stomach when he realized that his mistress had managed to trick him into making an aggressive move against her. When she turned around with that very familiar hateful look her face that feeling only intensified. As she slowly walked toward him, he saw that the blob of glue and fiber had impacted the wall above the fire and was now sliding down the wall into it. Once it touched the fire, a great and bright flame erupted and persisted for a few minutes before dying. He looked at his mistress and saw an alarmed look had suddenly appeared on her face. Suddenly, the idea of roughhousing with his mistress inside the cave while there were extremely flammable material around seemed unwise. After thinking on how to deal with this situation, he pointed outside the cave and spoke the words for "fight, there" in the strange folk's language.

The sparring with his mistress ended as it always did, with him on the ground totally spent. Once he recovered and reentered the cave, he observed his mistress, with recovered hat back on her head, processing the fibers into thread. With the steamed wad of fibers was on a hide on the ground, she would pinch a few strands from the wad and gently pull them. Once she had enough length, his mistress would attach a small metal weight to the fibers she just pulled and began to twirl the weight around. With every rotation, the thread grew longer. Once the thread was long enough, his mistress would cut the thread and disappear into the back chamber for a few minutes. It was during these intervals he would scavenge any stray fibers. 

Comparing the recently steamed fibers to the older fibers in his collection revealed that the steamed fibers were still a little sticky and weaker. He thought about this and came to the conclusion that the thread that his mistress was making needed to cure for a time before using. Thoughts of new clothing and bow strings he could make with this new thread filled his head as he laid down to sleep. As he slowly drifted off, he continued to observer his mistress's technique at drawing out the fiber from the steamed wad.

He awoke well after morning and his mistress still processing the much diminished wad of steamed fibers. Looking over to the fire, he noticed the stew pot was no longer above it. Silently cursing himself, he regretted not staying awake long enough to see what she did with the glue that was sweated from the fibers. He closed his eyes and tried to guess what his mistress did with the content of the stew pot. Knowing that she was prone to laziness and mischievousness, he felt certain he would find it or it would find him, eventually. He stood up and readied himself for the day by arming himself with his one-handed spear and leaving the cave.

He proved his assessment of his mistress's flaws was correct with his first step out of the cave. He could feel that one of his feet had landed in something wet and sticky. He did not need to look down as the mocking laughter coming from behind told him everything he needed to know about where the glue was now located. As he worked his foot out of the boot it was in, he was thankful that his mistress did not set up a trap that dumped the contents of the stew pot on his head. He straddled the puddle of semi congealed strong glue and began to free his boot with brute force as he did not want to face the risks that using fire to warm the glue would bring. As he did so, he thought about what kind type of beast his mistress harvested the sticky fibers from. While he was not sure what it was, he reasoned that it should fear flame, based on the violent reaction the glob of glue and fibers had with the fire last night. 

After he had freed his boot, cleaned it, and put it back on, he entered the cave to retrieved every scrap of hide, fur, and pelt he could find. A quick visit to the woodcutting area yielded many baton sized pieces of wood. To these pieces of wood, he tied the various scraps and leftovers of his crafting attempts on their ends. Then, he took one of these hide bound sticks and stirred it around in the glue puddle for a bit. Next, he returned to the cave again to expose his latest creation to fire in the cave. After making sure that his mistress was in the back chamber, he pushed his torch into the cave's fire. The makeshift torch burst into flames with flare-like intensity at first and then quickly dimmed to a more tolerable brightness. Satisfied at his new found source of portable light, he left the cave to test the duration of his torch.

He planted the lit torch nearby in the ground and started counting silently as he worked creating more torches. His internal count reached the upper fifties before he noticed his first torch had started to sputter out. While he had hoped for more than just a minute's worth of time from each torch, he felt that the twenty at his disposal would be enough for today's expedition. Using his last bits of hide, he bundled his torches together so that it would be easy for him to pull one out as he needed them. Finally ready, he recalled his mistress's entrance last night and the fact she was covered in not only the sticky fibers, but twigs and leaves as well. A quick scan of the local trees revealed that some had small tufts of the sticky fiber on them. 

Following these clues, he traveled towards the source of these fibers. It was not long before he recognized where he was headed. He recalled had hunted in this region before, but stopped when he noticed that the local fauna was starting to thin out due to his hunting. Curious on how well the land recovered in his absence, he climbed nearby hill to get a better look of the situation he was heading into. What he saw sent chills to run down his spine. The woodland on the horizon was covered with large amounts of the sticky fibers which gave it a dark and foreboding feeling. He closed his eyes and listened. All that he could hear was the wind. He quickly realized that something new had moved into this area recently and finished off what was left of the local wildlife.

His every survival instinct screamed at him to flee this place and to never return. But, something inside him was compelling him to continue further. He pondered the reasons as he approached the enshrouded woodland. When he reached his destination, he finally settled on his ongoing competition with his mistress as the motivation for the insane risk he was about to take. He knew that this act was a clear violation of the promise to cut back on the one-upmanship games with her. But, he decided that there were some promises that were meant to be broken and anything she could hunt, so could he, although perhaps not quite in the same way as her. 

After taking a few steps into the filament choked woods, he noticed that everything, even the ground, was coated in a very thin layer of the sticky fibers. Already having second thoughts about this situation, he tried harvesting the fibers he had easy access too. After clearing the fibers from a few trees, all he had to show for his efforts was a small ball that was mostly made up of twigs and other forest debris. Knowing a fire needed to be built, he gathered up several branches and other combustible materials. Once he had everything he needed for a proper camp fire, he walked deeper into the woods. With every footstep he made, he noticed that the thin layer of sticky fiber that coated everything shook. He suspected that whatever creature that lived here was probably already aware that he was here. After a short hike, he arrived near at what he remembered as being the heart of these woods. There, he saw the unmistakable home of the creature that now claimed these woods as its home.

It was huge funnel web.


	17. Procurement

He scratched the thin sheet of silk covering the ground away with the butt of his spear until he had enough bare ground to safely build a fire. After getting it started, he counted the torches in the bundle on his hip again and thought about the volume spider silk he would need to learn the techniques his mistress demonstrated last night. Based on the flammability of the substance, he figured he should acquire as much as possible that his supply of torches would allow, just in case of accidents. He Looked at his bundle of torches again and decided that he would sacrifice a third of them for walking into the huge funnel web, another third looking for the biggest wad of silk he could find, and the final third for getting the hell out of there. Armed with a plan and his obsidian tipped spear, he ignited his first torch. Just like the torch he experimented with back at his mistress's cave, it burst into intense brightness and was forced to close his eyes to avoid being blinded until it dimmed enough. Thus armed with a functioning light source, charged into the huge funnel web.

With his first few steps, he discovered that the floor of the silky funnel was surprisingly non-sticky. He stopped his dash briefly and looked at the damaged fibers on floor and saw that they were broken away from the funnel's entrance. Based on this evidence, he deduced that the creature that constructed and lived in this funnel web hunted and dragged its prey into here. Hoping that this creature was not active during the day, he resumed his charge. It was not long before his first torch started to die out. He quickly pulled out the second torch and held it against the first. His confidence in this adventure increased as the flames jumped from the dying torch onto its replacement causing another temporary flare up. Happy with the light produced by his second torch, he extinguished the first by blowing on it before dropping it and continuing his rapid pace down the funnel. The silk lined path he followed snaked around a few trees before plunging underground.

By the time he had ignited his sixth torch, he had entered a wide silk lined chamber. In the flickering light he saw hundreds of silk cocoons attached haphazardly to nearly every surface. As he began to explore, he noticed that some of the cocoons were squirming. He stopped and brought his torch closer to one of moving cocoons so he could get a closer look. Insideit was one the one of red-eyed scavengers that he was all too familiar with. A quick examination of the larger cocoons lead to the discovery of larger beasts. He took a mental count of the sheer numbers of cocoons in this chamber and came to the realization that there was enough meat here for both he and his mistress to eat well for seasons.

His pondering came to a sudden stop when he heard something that was neither his torch starting to die, or his breathing. As the torch's light dimmed, he clearly heard something was slowly approaching him. He turned towards the direction from where he heard the sound coming from and carefully pulled his seventh torch from his supply bundle and ignited it. Although he was nearly blinded by the seventh torch's initial flare up, he managed to get a glimpse of something very large skitter quickly away from him, up a wall, and into the darkness that enveloped ceiling. The thought that he was now being watched from above made his stomach churn. 

He continued his search as he listened to the noises above. By the time he ignited his ninth torch, he finally discovered a cocoon that was just a little smaller than him. Based on the pair of horns barely protruding out the cocoon, he could easily guess what it contained. He made his way toward his prize and brought his torch closer to it to have a better look. The lack of squirming told him that whatever unfortunate individual was contained within the cocoon was already deceased. He used the tip of his spear to cut the cocoon free from the webbing that held it in place. After the cocoon landed on the chamber floor, he suddenly became aware of the logistical challenge he had just created for himself. He knew that he needed a hand to hold the light source to keep whatever was on the ceiling away from him, another to hold his spear just in case that whatever decided it was more hungry than scared of the light, and a third arm to hold the cocoon he just appropriated.

He propped his spear against a nearby cocoon and counted the remaining torches in the bundle on his hip. Satisfied that he had used only half of supplies so far, he made the choice to leave with his prize. He waited for the ninth torch start to die and ignited the tenth. Again, he saw creature that had been stalking him and noticed that it did not retreat as far as before. Although he could no longer see it after the torch dimmed, his ears told him that it was now circling him in an attempt to find some way to get closer. He ignored unnerving noises and focusing on how best to transport the silk cocoon above ground while watching the ninth torch slowly die. Recognizing that he was wasting precious time and light, he absentmindedly put the ninth torch between his teeth and grabbed his spear.

He stopped suddenly and stared at the dying flames of the torch in his mouth. Then, he chuckled to himself briefly once he realized that he had just solved his logistical problem. Once the ninth torch had died, he replaced it with the tenth. Next, he picked up his prize and put it on his shoulder taking great care not to set ablaze the highly flammable material with the torch in his mouth. As he made his way back towards the entrance to this chamber, he felt the fibers of the cocoon adhere to his skin as the glue bound within them melted from his body heat. 

He was about to leave the silk lined chamber when new doubts forced him to stop again. While he had traveled into here nearly at full sprint, the bulky load on his shoulder prevented now prevented him from traveling any faster than a brisk walk. This sudden awareness forced him to make a quick recount of his torches and perform a mental estimation. His heart began to pound once his calculations told him that he was now a torch short. As he debated cutting himself free of the cocoon on his shoulder and absconding, he saw a small cocoon squirming nearby. Then, a wicked smile appeared on his face as an idea suddenly popped into his mind. He made a few preliminary cuts with his stabbing spear around the small squirming cocoon and carefully aimed. With a single thrust, he skewered the cocooned scavenger and, with a few rotations of his spear, gathered up any loose silk in the area. Once certain that the cocooned scavenger was not going to slip off the tip of his spear, he left the silk chamber.

He was able to travel a few dozen paces up the funnel tube before the tenth torch started to die. He stopped and brought the skewered cocoon on his spear to the torch in his mouth and watched as the fire spread to the cocooned scavenger. Instantly, the scavenger began to franticly spasm as it became engulfed in flame. Once convinced that the flaming scavenger on the tip of his spear was going to stay put, he noticed that it produced a dimmer, but serviceable, light than one of his torches and did so with greater amounts smoke. Starting a mental count, he resumed his journey back to the surface while doing his best not to set the silk lined funnel tube a blaze. Behind him, he could hear that he was still being followed. When tenth torch in his mouth died completely, he replaced it with the eleventh torch from his bundle and watched the burning mass on his spear to show signs of dimming. Upon breaking one hundred on his mental count he noticed that the burning scavenger on his spear was starting to show signs of going out. Satisfied that he was now at least torch ahead of what he needed, he ignited his eleventh torch and kicked off the charred corpse of the scavenger from his spear once the flames around it had died completely. Then, he resumed absconding. 

Soon, the Eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth torches were consumed as he followed the funnel tube upwards. When the fourteenth torch started to die, he became suspicious and started a new mental count once the fifteenth was ignited. Pressing onwards, he reached the high forties on his mental count before the fifteenth torch showed signs of dying. He repeated his mental counting exercise with the sixteenth and seventeenth and came up with similar results, high forties. As he ignited the eighteenth torch, he wondered if he had made a mistake in creating these torches or was he counting quicker because of the situation he was currently in. Suddenly a possibility he had not considered entered his mind and caused him to brush the bottom of his bundle of torches with the back of his spear holding hand. There, he felt several droplets of glue. It was with a sense of dread that he came to the realization that he had neglected to take into account that his own body heat was causing the torches to sweat away their precious fuel stores.

He refocused on leaving and noticed that the funnel had leveled out and widened a bit. After a few more steps, he was forced to ignite his nineteenth torch and by the time it started to die, he saw the funnel's entrance ahead and the fire he had previously built just beyond it. The twentieth and final torch allowed him to finally step back out into the light. Feeling safe, he looked back at the funnel entrance and saw the A large spider like creature there. Its apparent unwillingness to pursue him any further made him wonder if it too was like the strange folk, night adapted. It was with a bit of smugness that he turn away from the funnel and spat the torch in mouth into the camp fire.

Before he could take a single step, he felt something very sticky hit him in the center of his upper back.

Instantly, he spun around and, out of the corner of his eye, out of the corner of his eye, saw strands of silk in the air that lead back to the funnel's entrance. His hand and arm seemed to act of their own volition as the ribbon of silky filaments was slashed apart by his spear. Then, he watched as the creature of the funnel reeled the silk and prepared it for another attack. As he waited for it to make the next move, he questioned himself as to why this creature would chose to assault him now instead of earlier. His mind slowly put the various pieces of information together as he dodged the creature's next few attacks. 

The answer hit him just as the creature of the funnel scored a hit on one his boots with its sticky projectile. His original assessment of this creature's fear of fire was correct and that reason why the creature was attacking him now was due to him no longer having any fire near him. With this revelation, he slashed the strands of silk from his boot and dodged around the camp fire and knelt close to it. The spidery creature ceased its assault and patiently waited. He looked at the fire and guessed that it would burn for a few more hours. With time slowly running out, he thought about his current predicament. What he needed was a way to drive off this spidery foe, hopefully without killing it.

He carefully cut himself free the cocooned body on his shoulder while waiting for inspiration. Once freed the its encumbrance, he made a few sorties away from the relative safety of the fire to determine the funnel dweller's range and accuracy. He quickly discovered that his foe possessed incredible aim, reach, and a seemingly inexhaustible supply of silk to attack with. Even worse, he noticed that the creature could lead its target based on his body movements. This discovery made him wonder if this creature was similar to the dragons in terms of intelligence. Based on the amount of cunning it had shown thus far, he concluded that the answer to that question was yes.

A feeling of wetness on his hip caused him to look at the tangled mess of stitched strips that were located there. While, this collection of hide strips had served him well by holding his torches in an easily accessible bundle, now they threaten to bind up on any stray branch and because sweating of the torches were also now a highly dangerous fire hazard. As he removed the now highly combustible accessory, the inspiration he had been waiting for hit him. If this spidery foe was as cunning or intelligent as it appeared to be, he reasoned, then it made sense that it should have ways of dealing with fire. Devoid of any other ideas, he decided to gamble on this hypothesis. 

Kneeling near the fire, he carefully rubbed some the dirt near it on his arms and hands to remove any glue that would ignite. Next, he examined the bundling strips and found a dry spot to hold on to them. With some apprehension, he slowly lowered it into the fire. After the initial flare up, he twirled his new found flaming projectile while slowly stepping away from the fire. Even when he took his fourth step away from the fire, he noticed the creature made no attempts to attack like before. Noticing this sudden lack of aggression, he got behind his camp fire and thought about the consequences of his future actions. There was a real possibility that if he hit the spidery creature with the flaming mass of hide strips and set it on fire then the creature could run back into its funnel, spread the flames throughout its home, and set the whole forest on fire.

After some serious contemplation, he dropped the burning mass of glue soaked hide strips into the fire and pick up a small burning piece of wood. Then, while screaming the word for "go" in the strange folk's language, he threw the burning stick towards the funnel creature. When it landed near the funnel's entrance, he watched, amazed, as the creature backed away from the tiny fire. Disbelieving his own eyes, he grabbed a larger piece of burning wood from the fire and tossed that towards the smaller piece already lying at the threshold of the funnel. Upon seeing no further reaction from the creature he armed himself with the largest piece of burning firewood he could safely handle and advanced towards the funnel.

The spidery creature made no attacks against him as he set the third piece of firewood down with the others or even when he was busy stamping out the tiny accidental wildfires that the new camp fire set off. He let out a sigh of relief upon realizing that had just found a way to block his spidery foe from chasing after him without killing it. Using his spear, he raked the two fires together at the mouth of the funnel. Then, he gathered additional fuel and built it up until he was certain it would last for several hours. After some thought, he threw a few more large pieces of wood to be sure that it would last all day and most of the night as well. With the funnel dweller blocked for the time being, he turned his attention to the prize he had risked his life for. But, quickly recognized he had to clean himself first.

Because his hair still short due to his recent encounter with the dragon and the prior experience he had with this sticky substance, cleaning the strands off of himself was easier this time. He especially made efforts to avoid using his hands whenever possible. Instead, he used sticks, leaves, and branches. The most problematic spot was sticky mass that had hit him in the center of his upper back where he could not reach with his hands. Briefly, he considered using his razor sharp obsidian tipped spear to shave it off, but eventually decided against that idea. Instead, he resorted to scratching the sticky mess off with the help of a sturdy tree. 

Now free of most of the sticky strands, he walked over to the cocoon that he had carried and looked it over. While the contents of the cocoon did interest him, he still wanted to preserve as many of the long silky fibers wrapped around the victim. To do so, he started making a circular cut around the neck of cocooned individual with one of his cutting wedges, but stopped when he hit something hard and metallic!


	18. Acquisitions

He stopped and examined his cutting tool. Its cutting-edge now had a small chip missing, but seemed otherwise to be fine. He carefully resumed his cutting and once he finished, he grabbed some leaves to use as mitts and pulled the silk from the head of the victim. He spent several minutes examining the facial features of this deceased strange folk. The most striking feature he noticed were the eyes, they were still solid grey. Thinking back on all of the strange folk he had seen, they all had various amount of color in their eyes. Except, the feral child he had released from its cage some time ago. Suddenly, The realization that the amount of eye color that one of the strange folk had a direct correlation with their age came to him. This epiphany caused him to close his eyes and recall the eyes of the Merchant, Overseer, and the Behemoth. To his chagrin, he saw their eyes were mostly full of color.

Quickly, he felt his goal of returning home drifting further away as he recognized that not only that he had to somehow defeat all at once these three of the strange folk in combat, but they were also the oldest strange folk he had seen thus far. Depression threaten to overwhelm him as he thought about how he was going to do the impossible. He recalled the dream he had again and searched through the image for any clues to his fate. While nothing new was revealed, he became focused on the object on the ground that he was reaching for. No manner how hard he tried, he could not discover what this object was. This mystery item gave him a small of amount of hope. Depending on what was, it could alter the flow of events drastically.

He returned his attention to body before him and noticed the metal slave collar. Upon closer examination, he got a good look at the terrible wounds on the neck of the body. This discovery told him that this individual had escaped their enslavement and got to enjoy a few hours of freedom, until, they encountered funnel web dweller. As he made the next series of cuts through the silk covering the upper torso, he wondered how this slave broke free from their owner. The answer to that question was revealed after he removed the silk that covered the torso and arms of the dead slave. Wrapped around its shoulder were a few thick straps of hide that connected to a wooden prosthesis. The prosthesis, in turn, was mounted on what was left of the dead slave's elbow. Where a hand or hook should have been been was a large threaded brass bolt that had its point filed down to a point. In between the threads of the bolt he found a small amount of dried cobalt blood. Based on all this evidence, he guessed that the owner of this slave received a very nasty surprise.

He stood up and thought about this slave's fight for freedom and wondered if there was anything he could learn from it. Inspiration hit him after a few minutes of pondering. He did not need to learn from the dead slave's actions in life, instead it was the nearly complete cadaver of one of the strange folk before him that he should study. He quickly realized that he had until sunset to learn what he could before the local wildlife would consume the dead slave. Quickly, he removed the remaining silk from the slave's corpse and pulled out an obsidian knife to make the first incision of this grisly dissection. He noticed the cadaver was bloated, but paid no heed to it. As a result, the instant the tip of his knife pierced the skin of the corpse, a spray of foul smelling fluids hit him. The stench of decay was so overpowering that he was forced to retch. Once he recovered, he decided to skip any further internal explorations. 

The wooden prosthesis intrigued him next. For a few moments admired its simple, but robust construction. Then, he became curious about its function. He grabbed the prosthesis near the large brass screw and tried to bend the artificial arm at the dead slave's elbow, but failed due to the rigor mortis in corpse. Undaunted, he gripped the wooden prosthesis with both hands and began twisting and wrenching the dead slave's fake limb until he both heard and felt a faint pop. Looking at both of the dead slave's shoulders, he saw there was now a clear difference between them. He made a few more attempts at flexing the artificial limb and watched as the now dislocated shoulder contorted in unpleasant way. He placed one hand on the dislocated shoulder and felt the bones slide around as he manipulated the wooden prosthesis. After few tries, he was able to pop the dislocated joint back into its place.

Next, he focused on the other shoulder and arm. Again, he placed one hand on the shoulder as he puzzled out the exact angle and amount of force needed to dislocate the joint. After several minutes, he was rewarded with another disturbing pop! With a bit more practice, he was able to restore the joint and dislocate it at will. He looked at legs of the cadaver and speculated if he could do the same to the hip joints. After much experimentation, he discovered the necessary angles and amounts of force needed to cause their dislocation and restoration. While it was interesting to learn how to the strange folk's bodies worked. He knew, based on the combat experiences beaten into him by his mistress that dislocating the limbs of his mistress, or any other strange folk for that matter, in the middle of a fight would be difficult if not impossible. 

Searching for additional vulnerabilities, he removed the head of the dead slave. It came off the neck easily, BUT the skull refused yield to his efforts at cracking it open. In his growing frustration, he even resorted to employing large stones that he could barely lift above his own head. The result of his efforts were the breaking of the dead slave's horns. Finally, giving up, he gave the impervious skull a solid kick and sent it flying into the bushes. As he massaged his toes through his boot, he recalled the numerous times he had bashed his mistress on her head with his club and the lack of effect those blows had on her. The strange folk, he realized with a chuckle, were truly thick headed and there was no point in targeting their skulls. Having learned all everything he wanted from the dead slave, he gathered up the silk and his possessions and returned to his mistress's cave.

After he pushed his way back into the cave, his mistress reacted quickly to his presence. With a disgusted look on her face and one hand over her nose, she ordered him out of the cave. This behavior confused him at first, as he had experienced his share of unpleasant aromas due to the primitive living conditions both of them shared. However, a quick sniff of his hands revealed the source of her repulsion. The overpowering stench from the cadaver he had cut open was still lingering on him. Embarrassed, he dropped his gear and possessions at his space in the cave and made his way to the dew pond for a bath. 

On his return, he noticed that some of his belongings were now strewn outside the cave as if they were garbage. This development irk him somewhat, but he remained calm and approached one of the cracks around entrance boulder and tried looking into his mistress's cave. To his surprise, his mistress was already looking back him through the same crack and after a few inquisitive sniffs, she backed away from the boulder. Continuing to peer through the cracks, he could see the remainder of his belongings were still in their usual place in the cave. This caused him to turn towards his other possessions that were outside the cave and wonder what the fuss was about. The fickle breeze brought the answer to his nose, the items outside the cave reeked of decay.

He spent the remainder of the day washing and scrubbing the malodorous items. However, some items were unsalvageable. The many belts, straps, and other bits he used to secure his weapons refused to let go of the foul stench that now possessed them. In the end, he had to burn nearly everything he had made from hides and was left with only his boots and the tattered remnants of his jeans. Focusing on what remained of them, he noticed that they were quickly becoming nothing more than a loincloth and realized that he needed to make himself a new pair of trousers. But first, he had to process the silk he harvested. 

He returned to the cave just at sunset and began unpacking the silk in his mistress's presence. Through the corner of his eye, he noticed that his mistress quickly became impressed with his haul. He continued unpacking and listened to his mistress as she walked over to the fireplace, pick up the stew pot, and walked into the dark back chamber. A few moments later, he heard her return. Finished with his unpacking, turned and looked at his mistress and noticed, quite predictably, that she no longer had stew pot. Its sudden disappearance and the smug look now on her face told him that he would have to find his own way of processing the raw silk he possessed.

He sat and pondered what he could use as a replacement of his mistress stew pot. The substitute vessel should be easy to repair or to find replacements for and at least be fire resistant he reasoned. With this criteria, he started going through his mental catalog of potential objects. When he was finished rejecting the unsuitable candidates for various reasons, he was left with only one choice, skulls. He knew that finding some was not going to be a problem, it was finding one with all of the properties he needed was going to be the real challenge. Satisfied with his choice, he went to sleep and in the morning set off to find a suitable skull armed only with his spear. 

As he predicted, finding skulls was easy as they littered the landscape in various states of decay. The problem was finding one with sufficient volume and without any holes in them. He discovered that while many of the beasts he hunted had large skulls, their brains were tiny. Thus, had insufficient space to hold water. Eventually, he understood that he needed to find a creature that could think and the only creatures that possessed that trait that he knew of were dragons and the strange folk themselves. Dragons, of course, were not an option. He thought about searching for the head of slave he kicked into the bushes near the lair of the funnel web dweller, but his current lack of a portable fire source made that plan dicey. He thought about his options further and recalled the skull he found in a pile of dung while hunting with mistress some time ago. Since he was not having any luck with finding a suitable beast skull, he journeyed into regions where the local fauna were larger and more plentiful to hopefully find another skull of the strange folk.

After a long trip, he found another set of tracks that were similar to the reptilian monster that he and his mistress defeated. At first, he followed the tracks from where they came from since he was not interested in hunting the creature. After a mile or so, he came upon where the creature he was tracking made its bed the day before. After checking the winds direction and much sneaking about, he determined that this nest was unoccupied and decided to make thorough search. He found nothing usable and reluctantly started following the tracks in the other direction hoping he would not find their creator. 

Running along the clawed track marks, he started to get a feel for this creature. The space between the individual tracks told him the size of the creature he was following, huge, and the distance between the occasional bloody smears and dropping piles told him how often this huge creature needed to eat, which seemed to be all the time. None of the dropping piles he encountered so far had what he was looking for and by the time the red sun had begun to set, he became concerned that if he did not break off his pursuit he would be forced to journey through this dangerous region back to his mistress's cave both alone and in the dark. He weighed the risks and decided to continue following the trail before him.

Just as the red sun was about to slip past the horizon, the tracks climbed a small hill and ended in a set of deep gouges on the edge of a precipice. He approached the edge, looked down, and saw multiple Maroon and brown blood smears and a trail of bloody claw prints leading away from the massacre site. After making sure the area was clear and safe, he climbed down to the bloody site and examined it further. He quickly discovered wagon and musclebeast tracks running through the site and a set footprints walking single file that ended at the blood smears. The muscle beast trail switched from a leisurely walk to a full gallop just past them. In the middle of the bloody smears, he found a damaged slave chain. Form the looks of it, he deduced that the creature he was following had tried to eat it. 

The narrative these tracks and blood smears suggested made his heart pound with anger. It did not sit well him that not only that the slaves were slaves, but that they were completely disposable as well. He took a few minutes to control of his emotions and then followed the bloody track towards his goal. A short hike later he found the massive dung pile he was looking for. Using any available sticks, he carefully dug out several skulls. These he cleaned as best he could and compared them to one and another. One in particular, caught his attention because one of the holes for the eyes were completely sealed by bone. This discovery caused him to carefully examine the other skulls. Quickly, he noticed that almost each one had some sort of congenital deformity.

A far off hungry roar pulled his attention from the skulls. Looking around, he noticed it was now very dark and soon every manner of creature would soon be waking up. He gathered up as many of skulls that appeared to be suitable for boiling water into his arms. Only to wince when one them tumbled from his arms and hit the ground making a loud clatter. He carefully scanned the darkness around him for signs of danger and in distance he saw a pair of hungry looking eyes looking back at him. Focusing on them, he noticed that the eyes had a feline shape to them. This observation told him that the creature that was approaching was possibly an ambush predator. Knowing that he could not outrun the approaching creature, he gripped his spear tightly, crouched near the foul smelling pile of droppings, and hoped the approaching had not caught his scent yet. 

After a few seconds, he could no longer smell the stench of droppings and realized that the fickle breeze was now blowing towards the ambush predator. He slowly stood up and in the limited moon light he could just barely discern the outline of the creature approaching. What he saw was the largest ambush predator he had seen so far. He assessed his odds of victory against this creature and did not like them one bit. Even if he had the element of surprise, he predicted that he would receive serious injury even if he was victorious. As he continued to observe the approaching creature, his heart began to pound as the ambush predator stopped and began to sniff the air. Recognizing that the element of surprise was about to be lost, he planted the butt of his spear against the ground in anticipation of its pounce.

He watched the ambush predator's posture tensed up suddenly and then it absconded mysteriously into the night. He wondered what scared it off and after few seconds the breeze shifted again. The answer hit his nose with full force. The stench from the droppings was now being blown towards him and he struggled not to retch from the smell. Once he recovered, he searched the area around him and in the distance he noticed additional sets of eyes moving towards him. He looked back at the dung pile and frowned. He really did not want to resort to masking his scent in the manner he was now contemplating. With a heavy sigh, he reached into the dropping pile, grabbed a handful of it, and began rubbing it on his body.

Once he felt confident that he smelled nothing like former self, he slide most of the skulls onto his spear and began the journey back to the dew pond above his mistress's cave for a bath. Throughout most of his nighttime journey he was left alone, with only occasional encounters along the way. Of those, he noticed that they quickly absconded once anything caught his new-found fragrance. As a result, the trip to the dew pond gave him a lot of time to think about the experiences he had while on this trip and the day before. The incredible things he had seen and the incredible risks he took amazed himself. More so, he was actually enjoying this lifestyle the more his mind and body adapted to this world.

He saw there was color on the horizon by the time he made his way to the dew pond. After cleaning himself and the skulls he brought with him, he made his way to the entrance of mistress's cave and placed his skulls near the entrance as he started to push the boulder out of his way. Before he could do so, he heard the quiet steps of his mistress behind him. Slowly, he turned turned around and look at her.

He saw that his mistress was staring intensely at the skulls he had collected.


	19. Production

He knew that particular look all too well. It meant that his mistress disproved of his latest acquisitions. He had hope to get some sleep before attempting to process the spider silk, but he could tell that was no longer an option. Sensing she might do something rash, he preemptively gathered up the skulls and walked away from the cave entrance. Next, he climbed a tree to avoid the scavenger's morning patrols and, once they had made their rounds, he climbed down. 

He mentally reviewed how his mistress processed her silk and began planning what he needed. The first item he thought of was water, which required multiple trips to the dew pond. Not all of the skulls he had collected were watertight and he was forced to throw those away. Of the remaining skulls, he picked one with a pair of backward sweeping horns to boil water in. When he flipped this skull upside down, he noticed that this skull rested nicely on its horns. Recalling on his attempts at breaching the skull of the dead slave, he was confident that it would bear the heat and fire. As for the other skulls, he decided to use them as water storage so he could top off the skull he was going to boil water in. Next, he surveyed the vicinity for something he could hang the spider silk he had collected on and chose a nearby tree with a low-hanging branch. After pushing a small boulder with a shallow depression in it under the branch, he returned to his mistress's cave for his silk. 

Thankful that his supply of silk remained undisturbed, he made his way back to his work-site with it. He built a small fire in the shallow depression of the boulder and placed the water filled skull with the backward sweeping horns above it. He knew that the silk was very flammable and that he was still inexperienced processing it so he skewered just a small amount of silk on the low-hanging branch. Carefully he fueled the fire under the skull and eventually got the water in it to boil. Soon, the steam started to rise and, after a bit of waiting, the first few drops of adhesive began to form.

Happy with his initial success, he turned away to gather some more fuel for the fire. But, gathering firewood took longer than he expected and when he had finally scavenged enough, he saw everything around him get very bright for a moment and then returned to normal. He ran back to where he was steaming the spider silk and saw a thin stream of flame running up along the side of the skull, up through the air, and to the small wad of, now flaming, silk. He was not angry or upset with this development. In fact, he expected this occur. After knocking the flaming silk off the low-hanging branch and extinguishing it, he skewered another small bit of silk on the branch above the fire. He refueled the fire and watched the steamed silk slowly begin to sweat out a single drop of adhesive. 

This time, he focused all his attention on this single drop as it made its way down. Just as this drop was about to separate completely form the wad of silk on the tree branch, he felt a breeze begin to blow. As a result the drop of adhesive swung out of the column of steam rising from the skull and both it and the thin line of glue that served as its tether started to congeal. Then, the drop and its tether swung back into the steam and soften to the point that the drop lowered a few inches before being blown back out of the steam by the breeze again. He watched the drop swing into and out of the steam several times, lowering a little bit with every sweep. Eventually the drop lowered itself until it made contact with the skull full of boiling water and quickly ran down the skull's side and into the fire. He barely had time to close his eyes before the racing flames reached the wad of spider silk along the thin line of glue created by drop's downward movement. By the time the brightly burning spider silk had died down, he understood exactly why his mistress processed her silk inside her cave.

He cleaned off the low-hanging branch and placed place another small portion of raw spider silk on it and gave a quick glance to the skull he was boiling water in. Seeing that it needed refilling, he retrieved one of the other water full skulls and brought it to his work space. However, the lack of sleep and an unnoticed tree root caused him to trip and fall. As he regained his footing, he heard the sound of water vigorously boiling. He looked at where his fire was and saw the slurry of water mixed with ashes bubbling out steam. Curious, he carefully tested the temperature of boulder he had built the fire on and discovered that it was very hot! At that moment, he was hit by the realization that he did not need a fire to boil water directly, all he had to do was just add the heat of one to water to boil it. 

Once the mess of ash and water stopped hissing, he cleaned the boulder and refilled the skull he used to boil water. Next, he built a large camp fire some distance away and added several fist sized stones to the fire so they could bake. While they did so, he quickly created a crude set of tongs and grabbed one of the hot stones and dropped it into the boiling skull. Instantly, an eruption of steam issued from the skull and enveloped the wad of spider silk above. Soon, drops of adhesive were sweated from the mass of silk and slowly dripped down. Most of the drops that fell missed the boiling skull's opening and landed in the shallow depression under the skull and pooled there. He smiled as he fished the stone out of the boiling skull and replaced it with another hot stone. After several more stones, he noticed that the mass was no longer sweating drops of adhesive. He quickly fished out the last stone from the boiling skull and retrieved the steamed wad of silk from the branch.

He carefully examined the freshly steamed wad, pinched a few filaments, and tried to spin a thread just like his mistress did. But, the strands of spider silk unraveled whenever he released the tension on the thread. Undaunted, he tried tying the individual strands together. However, the resulting thread was prone to fraying if he failed to knot it every inch or so. Looking at his handiwork, he knew that this was not technique his mistress used. He closed his eyes and recalled his mistress processing her silk. The memory was hazy, due to him being sleepy at the time and the fact she often changed direction while making the thread. But, he did remember one important fact. The strands she spun were a little bit sticky. Based on this recollection, he lightly dipped his thumb and forefinger into the pool of adhesive. Then, he began pulling and twisting the filaments through his glue covered fingers. He stopped after producing a few inches and let the thread go limp. 

This time, it did not unravel itself.

Quickly, he found a suitable rock and tied the thread around it. Then, he began to spin it around slowly. He could the thread forming itself as it passed through his glue covered fingers. About half of the wad of steamed silk was nearly converted to thread by the time he felt the glue on his fingers run dry. He picked out higher tree branch and tied the new thread to it so it could cure in the breeze. Then, he resumed converting the other half of the steamed silk. Working throughout the day, he processed much of his supply of spider silk into thread. The tree he tied the results of his work to took on a ghostly appearance as it became increasingly covered. By the time evening came, he carefully scrapped the leftover adhesive into one of the skulls and stashed it and the other skulls so his mistress would not find them. Tired, he returned to her cave and slept.

The next morning, he got ready to hunt for hides again. Since he had not gotten around to replacing his bow yet, he chose to stick to smaller prey. As he headed out, he visited where he stashed his skulls and discovered them safe sand sound. Next, was a quick visit the tree that had he tied the threads he made. A quick pull on one of them revealed the strength they gained in just one night of curing. Then, he paid a visit to the hive of the alien bees since he was craving something sweet again. This time however, he only accepted a single helping of their honey and the awakening feeling was not as profound as before, but neither were the hallucinogenic side effects as well. 

Finished with the alien bees, he started hunting and noticed that all of his senses seemed heightened. Furthermore, tracking his prey was easier as well and as he followed their trails facts about the beasts he hunts kept popping into his head. What they ate, how they fought, even their overall health was laid before him as if he was reading a book. As a result, his hunt was quite successful and he acquired many small hides in this outing. So many that when he finally took the time to examine them he knew he had more than half of what he needed to make his trousers. Once the red sun overhead reached the horizon, he returned to the cave to sleep.

The next day unfolded as the one before, except he did not visit the alien bees. Hunting returned to being the difficult and often frustrating task it was before. By midday, he rested and thought about differences between now and yesterday. It did not take long for him to come to the conclusion that it was possibly the honey from the alien bees that was helping him. Although he was not craving sweets, he journeyed to the bee's hive and tried another sample experimentally. The awakening sensation and rapid improvement in both mental focus and his senses left little doubt in his mind that the alien honey was culprit. He resumed his hunt, despite the fact it was now afternoon, and made several kills in the remaining hours of daylight. Once night fell, he returned to his mistress's cave. 

Once he woke in the morning, he returned to tree with the threads he had made. He tested a few and discovered that they had cured completely. Curious about their strength, he grabbed a bunch in each hand and carefully lifted himself off the ground. Amazed, he repeated this experiment again and again. Each time reducing the number threads in his hands until he reached a single thread. Figuring he had plenty to spare, he wrapped this one thread around his hands and exerted all his strength on it. His amazement increased as he lifted himself off the ground! He wondered what were the limits of this miraculous thread and decide to test it by bouncing his full body weight on it. He felt the thread stretch under the strain and return to its original length each time he landed. What he did not pay heed to the faint cracking of the branch that the thread was attached to was making and one last bounce was all it took for the branch to break free and send him into the dirt and leaves below the tree. Once he recovered, he began wrapping the threads around a large stick and thought of the possibility of using the thread he created as a bow string.

Once Back in the cave, he noticed that his spool of silk thread had drawn his mistress attention. Knowing that she had her ways of getting her hands on his property, he decided to present his mistress with the results of his efforts willingly. He watched her carefully as she pulled out several feet of thread and ran it through her fingers so that she had four strands between them as if she intended to play a game of cat's cradle. He took a step back as his mistress started pulling the strands of silk thread apart.

As her eyes narrowed, he studied her body language and recognized that she was now tapping into her people's hate fueled gift to increase her strength. He counted the seconds as the silk threads refused to snap and kept reading his mistress's facial expression. First, she narrowed her eyes. Then, she started baring her teeth. These two facial expressions he was already familiar with since he had been on the receiving end of the violence that they foretold many times. However, what came next surprised him. His mistress's eyes suddenly opened wide and with a mighty scream, the silk threads started to snap one after the other.

He noticed she seemed to be satisfied as she dropped the snapped pieces of thread on the ground and walked away. He wondered about what he had witnessed as he gathered up the broken strands of silk thread. He already knew that his mistress and her people were incredibly strong, but something kept bugging him mentally. He walked over to his area in the cave and recalled all the times he sparred with his mistress. As well as he could remember, the hate build up she displayed always followed the same basic pattern. Even when he was her packbeast, this pattern held true. From that thought, he flashed-back to the slaves breaking apart the log they brought into the communal camp so long ago and recalled that the slaves, too, had to take time to channel their hate. Suddenly, the strange folk no longer seemed to be invincible. 

All he needed to do to defeat them was kill them before they had a chance to call upon their unique gift or find a way to use it against themselves.

With this realization, he felt as if great weight had been lifted from his shoulders and for the first time he considered possibility that he could actually defeat his mistress during one of their weekly sparring sessions. That thought made him wonder what would happen to their peculiar relationship should that ever happen. With no answers forthcoming, he turned his attention to the pile of hides and his desperate need for some trousers.

He examined all his materials and made mental notes on their characteristics and the way they felt against his skin. Soon, the various variables became overwhelming and he started wishing that he had a pencil and some paper to write everything down on. After looking through his collection of hides a second time, he noticed that one had a large white spot on it. For the ink, he reached into the chimney and scratched some soot from the chimney and mixed it with his own spit. Finally, a stick was dipped into the slurry of soot and spit and used as a crude marker.

The planning phase of his new trousers was a slow process and his mistress's constant peering over his shoulder as he drew did not help matters. Still, he was thankful that she did not interfere any further. Once he had his overall design set, he proceeded to cut out the various shapes from the hides. Because of the surplus of materials at his disposal he made them larger than he needed so he would have the option to trim down if needed. From the scraps of his cuttings he practiced stitching with the thread he created and quickly learned the differences between using hide strips and silk thread. Finally, equipped with knowledge and materials he needed, he started stitching the collection of hide shapes into a pair of trousers. He focused so intensely on this time consuming task that when he finished the trousers he realized he had completely missed the arrival of the night or his mistress leaving for her hunt.

When he slipped the trousers on the first time, he found them to be baggy and too big for him, which was his intention. Over the next few hours, he gradually tightened the trousers against his body. He made sure every step of the way to make sure that the trousers did not bind or encumber his movements. Dawn was still several hours away when he finished and his mistress was still out hunting. He really wanted to show off his latest creation to her. Starting to feel a little bored, looked around for something to do and spotted the tattered remnants of his blue jeans. Suddenly, the question of what to do with them entered his mind. 

He knew that they were completely useless to him now and reluctantly decided to start a fire to burn them. As stood near the fire ready to cast the only tangible object that proved that he came from another world into the flames, he felt his will begin to falter. In his mind a debate raged, part of him felt that he was losing another part of himself to this strange world. Another, told him that if he were ever wished to return home, then he needed to leave behind everything that held him back. Unable to resolve this dilemma, he stood near the fire with the rags of his old jeans still in his hands and watched it slowly die over the hours. When it finally did so, he rebuilt the fire to resume his brooding. But, soon, his attention was pulled away from the fire.

Behind him, he heard his mistress enter the cave.


	20. Kismesissitude

He remained still and hoped that somehow she would just ignore him. But, he knew that was not going to be the case as soon as he heard her start to slowly walk towards him. With each step she took, he cursed himself for failing to resolve the issue he was now having. Once his mistress reached him, she circled around him and, for a few moments, admired the new article of clothing he was now wearing. He continued to watch where her eyes and face for clues what she would do next. First, she focused on the fire and then the tattered remains of his jeans in his hands. Finally, his mistress looked him in the eyes. As her special toothy grin started to appear on face, he understood exactly what action she was going to perform next.

He barely had enough time to tightly grip the waistband of what used to be his jeans before his mistress attempted to snatch the rags from his grasp. Nearly knocked of balanced by his mistress's theft attempt, he pulled back as hard he could while repeatedly screaming the word "mine" in the strange folk's language. He quickly saw that his actions did not help. In fact, they seemed to exacerbate the situation as his mistress began mimicking, in a mocking tone, his protestations as she pulled harder. While he knew his mistress was just exploiting this moment to get a rise out him, he was not in the mood to be so understanding.

He countered her attempts at yanking his old clothing away from him and for a few moments he held his own in this ad hoc game of tug-o-war. However, as her eyes started to narrow, he felt her strength begin to increase. However, his desire to one who decided what happens to his old jeans prevented him from giving up. To counter her increasing strength, he started dancing around his mistress and slamming her into the walls of the cave in an attempt to keep her off balance and unable to fully use her hate induced strength. His tactic worked for a little while, until his mistress started responding in kind. 

After being slammed into the cave wall many times, he realized that this game of tug-o-war between him and his mistress had transformed into a violent waltz. He could see all around him that interior of the cave was now a shambles and both their possessions were now scattered all over the floor making footing treacherous. Worse still, he felt exhaustion slowly overtaking him and his mistress now was reduced to unintelligible screaming. He knew was about to lose this conflict and looked around for anything he could use to gain advantage. Behind his mistress, he saw that his spear had fallen on its side between some rocks and now rested at ankle height off the floor. At that moment, a thought popped into his head.

It told him that all that he really needed to do was to let go.

He pulled his mistress in close and slammed his head against her snout. As a result, he saw her eyes instantly snap wide open and felt her pulling him closer with even greater strength. He resisted as best he could until he saw that she was starting to rear her head back for a retaliatory head butt. At that moment, he let go of what remained of his blue jeans and watched as his mistress stumbled backwards, tripped on his spear, and banged her head hard against the cave floor. 

Calmly, he walked over to where his mistress had fallen and tore what was left of his jeans from her grip and returned to the fire. Once by it, he stopped and looked back her. His mistress was still on the ground, and had one hand on the back of her head. He held the prize they had just struggled over up to get her attention. Once he saw that his mistress was glaring at him, he spoke her people's word for "mine" and dropped the only thing from home he still possessed into the flames.

As he spent the next few minutes watching his sacrifice burn, he heard his mistress get up. Expecting additional violence, he took a deep breath and tensed up as she neared. But, all she did was walk towards the corridor that lead into the second chamber of her cave. He looked her as she passed and saw that she did not look him. Instead, she was focused on the patch olive green color on her hand. Intrigued, he leaned into the corridor once she entered it and watched his mistress begin to disappear into the darkness. Just before she vanished completely, he noticed a trickle of her olive green blood running down her back and the manner in which she was walking. From what he could tell, she was neither angry nor upset. Instead, she seemed to be fulfilled. 

He turned his attention back to the fire and wondered why his mistress did not give him another one of her full beatings. As he worked through the plausible reasons, he came to one that made some sense. Previously, all that ever happened between the two of them was sparring and the occasional prank. But, what just occurred in the cave just now was their second real fight since he stopped being her beast and the second time he made her bleed. More importantly, unlike the stalemate before, this time he managed to win. He smiled and enjoyed this victory for a few minutes. Until, a new and disturbing thought entered his mind.

He realized that their relationship was never going to be quite the same ever again.

For the next week, everything seemed to be back to normal and he noticed that his mistress made no reprisals or thefts of his food. It was when he inspected the hides he had accumulated while hunting during the week to make a hooded jacket that he finally discovered her handiwork. None of the hides was missing, instead they were all slashed into useless confetti. Despite all of his accusatory glaring, his mistress maintained an illusion of innocence. Not falling for her ploy, he began hiding his hides outside the cave under a boulder that he could barely move. 

This plan worked for a few days until he came back one day and saw that these hides were also mysteriously shredded. At first, he thought that some creature had found and raided his cache. Until, he realized that a dumb creature would not have bothered to put the heavy stone back. Searching nearby, he discovered a trail of bootprints that were not his own. This was all the evidence he needed to blame his mistress. As he sat down and thought about what he should do, a wicked smile appeared on his face.

He spent most of the day hunting for more hides and placed these into his cache. Once the red sun started to set, he set his trap. Using some of the silk thread he had created he made a simple net and positioned it above the boulder of his cache among the overhead tree branches. Next, he heated his supply of glue and painted the net with it. Then, he added the shredded hides to the sticky net as a final garnish. Finally, he rigged the trap to go off when the boulder on his cache was moved. With all the preparations made, he returned to the cave just in time to see his mistress go out for her hunting. As he started to go to sleep, he briefly wondered if his mistress would go to his cache or hunt first, yawned, and went to sleep. 

Angry screaming woke him up. Looking through the cracks around the entrance boulder, he saw his mistress standing outside with her sword drawn and covered in bits of silk thread, glue, and shreds of creature hides. Behind her, he noticed the red star was about to rise. He made his way past the entrance boulder and stood before her. A quick glance revealed her mood to be positively livid. Again, he fought the temptation to smirk at her self induced misfortune.

He failed.

The merest hint of one of the corners of his mouth raising provoked an attack from her. The resulting blow to the side of his head by the flat side of her sword was not one her usual training slaps. This strike had much her tremendous strength behind it. After the pain of being hit faded, he felt a trickle running down the side of his head. Looking back at his mistress, he noticed that she now had a smile on her face. There was a smugness in her smile that he just could not abide. Although he knew he was going to lose this battle with his mistress, he could not resist the compulsion to try to wipe that smile off her face. Slowly and calmly, he walked over to where they chopped firewood and picked up the sparring club.

The instant he grabbed the club, he heard his mistress charging towards him. Nearly surprised by her lack of speaking the word for a formal challenge, the first few blocks he made told him that she was using most of her hate fueled strength already. As he dodged the next few attacks of his mistress, he realized he had never fought her while she was this strong and at the same time he was still fresh. This difference in circumstances prompted him to try something new.

He traded blows with his mistress until he could foresee her next attack and waited for her to begin executing it. Then, he struck her sword, not against the direction it traveled, but with it instead. The combined forces of both their forces on her blade caused his mistress to become off balanced and stumble. This result surprised him and he failed to capitalize on this opportunity. She recovered quickly and resumed her assault with even more strength. Again, he fought defensively until he foresaw another attack coming and deflected it in the same manner as before. Because of the additional power she had put into this attack, his mistress was sent tumbling to the ground. Seeing a pattern, he continued to fight defensively and occasionally deflected the increasingly powerful attacks his mistress threw at him. 

For what seemed to him was a half an hour, he deflected the attacks of his mistresses until, once again, injury and fatigue conspired to put an end to his fighting. Looking at her face, he could tell she was no smiling. He was happy with his performance in this fight and was about to give up when his mistress looked up and put a hand over her eyes. He knew better than to take his eyes off his opponent during a fight, but his curiosity got the better of him. He turned around and saw that the red star of this world had risen during the battle and now was shining down on his mistress. He watched his mistress stagger, grudgingly, backwards towards her cave and realized that this fight was now over. Once she was back in the cave, he could see her glaring at him while he stood in the red star's light and warmth.

Suddenly, he saw her eyes snap wide open.

The screaming grey blur that emerged from cave caught him right on his diaphragm and knocked the wind out of him and the sparring club out of his hand. As he fell backwards to the ground, he suspected that losing to him twice in a row was too much for his mistress to accept. Once he hit the ground, he struggled to get air into lungs as she proceeded to pummel him mercilessly with her fists. Quickly raising his arms and fists to protect his face, he wondered just how long this beating was going to take. He knew the red sun would give his mistress an increasingly bad case of sun burn the longer she exposed herself to it. Figuring it was just a matter of time, he clenched his teeth and defended himself as best he could. Eventually, she returned to the cave. After a few minutes, he was able to do the same. Once inside, he assessed his injuries, lots of bruising, to hers, a bad case of sunburn, and thought he did well for himself overall. 

He hoped that this latest struggle between them would calm her long enough for him to recover and to make a jacket for himself. But, she continued to mock and antagonize him in new ways as the days passed. It did not take long for him to understand what was going on. Just as he was getting better at fighting, so was his mistress became more skillful at pushing his buttons and every time he succumbed to her provocations it always lead to another beating. What really irked him, was that his mistress was so damn creative. Whenever he found the willpower not to respond her latest aggravation technique, she would quickly invent a new one that was even worse. Soon, he found himself thinking and dreaming of ways of killing her. As a result, he began spending more and more time away from his mistress's cave.

First, he would spend all day and night out hunting. Then, his hunting trips spanned multiple days and nights. All this time alone gave him the freedom to add a jacket, gloves, and other pieces to his wardrobe. However, no matter how irritating his mistress became, he would always return to her cave ready and willing to face her abuse. Not out of fear she would track him down, instead it was those rare moments in which he managed to turn the tables on his mistress and give her a dose of her own medicine that compelled him to return and confront her again and again. In the battles that always followed, he often came close to beating her in their sparring sessions. But as the weeks wore on and his defeats steadily increased in numbers, he started to lose hope and started suspected that his mistress was merely toying with him by giving him these near victories. Even worse, he felt that his fighting skills were no longer improving. 

After many defeats at the hands of his mistress, he finally understood the reason that was the case. He realized that he had switched his goal from learning to fight to defeating her and the desire to win had become overwhelming. Depressed, he asked himself how could he ever possibly win in a fair fight against her.

A fair fight.

His mind seized on those words and refused to let go of them. Then, in a flash of inspiration, he understood that these battles with his mistress were not fair at all. In fact, he could safely assume none of the strange folk on this world would ever give him one. He placed one hand over his face as he considered just how foolish he had been for assuming that his mistress and her people operated under the same codes that he subscribed to. Once he became aware of his mistakes, he recalled when he burned the remains of his blue jeans and the lesson he learned about letting go of the things that were holding him back.

He sat up, closed his eyes, and in his mind he conjured a large fire. Then, he began examining all the various aspects of being human. Then, one by one, he pushed the ones which were incompatible with this strange world he found himself in. Fairness and honor were the first of many concepts he cast into that mental sacrificial flame. With each offering, a chill ran through his body and by the time he was finished, he was shivering. He took a few minutes to calm himself and accepted the fact that for as long he was going to live on this world, he would have to learn its rules and abide by them. Even, if it meant becoming just as ruthless as the strange folk appeared to be. With this ruthlessness firmly in his mind, he opened his eyes and looked for something to give him the advantage over his mistress.

In the distance, he saw some familiar maroon colored plants.


	21. Victory

He made his way over to the plants and pulled up as many he could carry and took them to where he had processed the spider silk into thread. Once there, he carefully dissected each plant into its base parts and hung these in various trees to dry. During the week it took for the maroon plants to dry out, he kept up appearances and tolerated his mistress's antagonistic efforts as best he could. When the maroon plant parts were finally dry enough, he ground them into a fine powder, which he kept in a small bag he created. A quick sniff revealed to him that the powder did not possess a strong aroma. This fact made him curious if his method of processing the maroon plant diminished its fiery heat. Seeing that there was one quick way to find out, he took a pinch of the maroon powder and tossed it into his face. Instantly, his eyes watered and he started to suffer coughing spasms.

When the effects of the maroon powder wore off, he realized that he needed to test the powder on something from this world to make sure the maroon powder would have the same effect on them as it did on him. After a bit of thought, he decided test his latest creation on the red-eyed scavengers first. He dropped some raw meat where they were sure to find it, then he sprinkled a bit of the maroon powder on it. Once morning came and went, he returned to where he had left the raw meat and discovered that the scavengers not only left meat where he had dropped it, but he saw that they also tried to bury it as well! Based on this observation, he suspected that his latest creation would have some kind of effect on his mistress. He wondered how could he test the powder on her with her becoming suspicious. 

Since his mistress had fallen back into her old habit of stealing meat from his personal supply, he knew had the perfect means to test her reaction to the maroon powder. However, there two problems that he foresaw. First, was diet. While he ate anything he could kill, his mistress was a far more picky eater and she rarely ate anything that bled maroon or brown blood. Her usual fare consisted of beasts with olive or teal blood. While these creatures tasted better, they were more dangerous to hunt. Especially, since he still had not gotten around to replacing his bow yet. That left yellow blooded creatures as a possible delivery vector for his powder. Which, in turn, lead directly to the second problem he foresaw. Maroon powder on yellow colored meat would show up easily and he knew could not rely on his mistress just cramming any cooked meat he left lying around down her throat without looking at it first. He did not know how he was going to feed her the maroon powder yet, but he did know what her most likely reaction would be, forced feeding.

In preparation of this eventuality, he began to season his meals away from his mistress's cave with the maroon powder. To his surprise, the powder not only had the intense heat that he predicted on his tongue, but a nice smokey flavor as well. He gradually built up his tolerance to the maroon powder while he waited for inspiration to provide him with a plan to test the powder on his mistress. Over time, he experimented with other plants and discovered many possessed flavors that went well with meat. Eventually, he was able to mix together a wonderful hot and spicy rub. But, after a few days he grew tired of his latest taste sensation and realized what he was really searching for.

Barbecue!

Of all the flavors he had at his disposal, sweetness was the only one missing. However, he knew where to find it. He picked one of the skulls from his collection and placed the various plant powders into it. Then, he made the trip to the alien bee hive. He still was not sure if the bees were reading his mind or just responding to his presence and demeanor. But, after his experience with the dragon he was not going risk getting stung by alien bees. Humbly, he held the stone mixing bowl below the hollow branch and kept his mind focused on recreating the flavor that he just barely recall. Then, he closed his eyes and asked for just the right amount.

For a few moments, nothing. Then, he felt a drop. He opened his eyes and watched as five more large drops of honey fell into the bowl. Noticing that the last drop was smaller than the rest, he took that as a sign that that was all the honey he needed. He gave thanks to the alien bees just in case they could understand him and started mixing the ingredients in his bowl with a stick. Since the resulting mixture was more of a paste than a sauce, he decided a trip to the dew pond above his mistress's cave was needed. As he walked he carefully licked the mixing stick clean and savored the wonderful flavor of the combined ingredients. Once he was finished with the stick, he started dipping his fingers into the alien honey laden paste and licking them clean. By the time he reached the dew pond, he was already experiencing both the awakened feeling and the hallucinations again.

He sat down near the pond and appreciated the now glowing colors of the afternoon around him. When he finally noticed his reflection in the surface of the dew pond, he spent several minutes being thoroughly entranced by it before reaching out and touching it. As the resulting ripples spread out to the edge of the dew pond and reflected back, he saw his reflection became fuzzy like an old fashioned television set that was no longer properly tuned. He shifted his seating position several times in attempt to bring it back into focus. Gradually, something did come back into view, but it was not his reflection. The figure on the surface of the pond was now wearing a white apron and a chef's hat instead of the hand stitched hide clothing he was currently wearing. Curious, he watched the chef in the pond prepare several different dishes. The last of which involved hiding pieces of garlic in a large piece of meat by making small cuts to stuff with the garlic.

He stood up abruptly and blinked. The more he considered this idea, the more it seemed possible that he would be able to pull it off. He resumed watching watching the chef in the pond prepare increasingly surreal meals as the full effects of the alien honey came over him. A few hours later after the hallucinations diminished, he added enough water to the paste to make a proper barbecue sauce. Realizing he now needed some meat for both his sauce and his research, he stashed the sauce away and tried his luck at hunting for the remainder of the day. Again, hunting was easy as he felt so in tune with his environment he thought he could communicate with it. This made him wonder if the alien honey he had been consuming was augmenting his mental processes or changing them. 

He returned to the area he processed his supply of spider silk. Which over the past few weeks had taken on the appearance of a proper camp. There, he coated some of meat from his hunt with the barbecue sauce he had made and started roasting it. In a few minutes, the spicy sweet aroma forced him to drool uncontrollably. It was a struggle for him to keep roasting his next meal instead of devouring it instantly. In the end, his willpower triumphed over the urge of instant gratification and he was rewarded with the best meal he had yet on this world. Once finished, he careful prepared the rest of the meat from his hunt by making cuts into the yellow bloodied meat and packing small amounts of the maroon powder into them. Next, he tested one of these fiery culinary landmines by roasting it. Then, inspecting it to make sure that it did not appear suspicious. Finally, by biting into it. There was quite a bit of heat in the meat, but due to the tolerance he had previously built up he was able to chew and swallow without coughing or feeling like his face was turning red. It was these two factors, he realized were most important if he was going to pull off this prank without alerting his mistress.

He took the remaining pieces of doctored meat with him and returned to his mistress's cave. Once he arrived, he looked through the cracks around the entrance boulder and did not see his mistress anywhere. He entered the cave, started a fire, and hoped that she was in the backroom and not already gone hunting. As soon the doctored meat started to sizzle, he felt her presence behind him. It always amazed him how she could move without making a sound when she wanted to. Refocusing on his cooking, he waited for one of the roasting pieces of meat to disappear as they tended to do so when she was around. Seeing as his mistress had not taken any of the baits, he started flipping the roasting meat onto their other sides. When got to the last one, he intentionally let one fall to the ground so he would have an excuse to take his eyes off his dinner.

The instant he reached down towards the fallen piece of meat, he heard his mistress begin wheezing.

He realized everything he had worked so hard for these past few weeks were riding on him selling the notion that this mystery meat was just an accident and not the result of ill intent on his part. Slowly, he picked up the meat from the ground, brushed it off, and put it back on the fire to finish cooking. As he did this, he mentally rehearsed what his next actions would be in the very near future. First, he would make exaggerated motions indicating that something was missing. Then, he would turn around with anger on his face and try to take back his meal. 

However, before he could do anything, he felt his mistress's strong grip around his throat. Then, she forced him to turn around and face her. Looking at his mistress's face, he saw what effects the maroon powder had on her. She was suffering from a runny nose, tear filled eyes, and had problems breathing. Worse of all, the way she glared at him told him she strongly suspected him of trickery. Thinking quickly, he focused on the meat in her other hand, then reached for it while shouting "mine" in her people's language and watched her reaction. She looked at him like he was crazy for a moment, then her expression switched to a malicious smile as gave the purloined meat back and spoke the strange folk's word for "Consume". He happily ate the returned meat, despite the fact a large chunk of it just had been in his mistress's mouth. Once he finished his food, he looked back at his mistress. He could easily tell she was surprised. His mistress stared, dumbfounded, in an attempt to discern any ill effects. Then, she released her grip on his neck and walked over to the remaining pieces still on the fire, picked one up, and took a bite. Summoning his best poker face, he watched as his mistress fell to her knees and began to retch. 

Once she recovered, she, again, forced him to eat the meat she had just bitten into, which he ate it with gusto. Based her body language and the tone she talked in, he guessed she was completely mystified. After a few tense moments, he watched his mistress returned to the back chamber coughing and wheezing every step of the way. Alone at last, he ate the final piece of doctored meat and went to sleep while his guts burned contently and with the knowledge that the maroon powder would have an effect on his mistress.

The next day, he began strategizing, move by move, a plan for defeating his mistress. In addition, he practiced throwing handfuls of dust and sand to get a feel for the range he could blind something with the maroon powder. The results of his experimenting revealed that there was not enough range to make the attack useful in actual combat. Furthermore, he knew his mistress would easily see him reaching into his bag that contained the maroon powder. Based on these facts, he decided the only way to use the maroon powder was as a supplement to an sneak attack. 

Throughout the next week, he waited for an opportunity to strike. Oddly enough, he found that having a plan that might work gave him the fortitude to withstand her latest methods of riling him. However, he soon found himself engaging in a battle of wills with his mistress. Since he was no longer succumbing to her antagonizing efforts, she refused to spar with him. Even when he started carrying the sparring club with him and openly challenging her, she would ignore him. Until he would let down his guard, then his mistress would tackle and pummel him into submission.

It was right after his fifth such beating of that week when he finally had enough. Although his arms and legs did not feel like moving, the incredible anger he felt compelled him to stand up and begin repeating the strange folk's word for "fight". His mistress reaction was a mocking laugh that only served to increase his rage. He made another challenge, this time revealing some of the growing fury inside him. Then, he watched as she drew her sword and then turn towards him and approach. Once his mistress stood before him, his mistress gave him a shove that caused him to stagger backwards a step. Then, his mistress turned, sheathed her sword, and started walking away while laughing. As he burned with anger, he realized that the shove his mistress just gave him did not have any of her usual hate fueled strength. All at once, the fighting skills beaten into him screamed out that this was the moment to strike. 

The pain of his previous beatings suddenly vanished and he took a deep breath as he started stealthily approaching his mistress from behind. While he did so, he reached into his bag of maroon powder and grabbed a fistful. Once in range, he leaped at her and got one arm, which still held the sparring club, around her neck and pinned both her arms to her torso with his legs. Next, he closed his eyes and slapped the handful of maroon powder onto his mistress's face. He struggled to maintain his grapple on his mistress when she hit the ground.

Based on her screaming, he knew he had precious little time to impair her fighting ability and mobility before she summoned enough strength to break free of his hold on her. He slipped the sparring club under her dominate arm and slid it under her armpit. Then, with both hands on the club, he began wrenching the sparring club back and forth against her joint with all of his strength and weight.

There was sudden change in her screaming that corresponded with the gruesome pop he felt. 

He released his grapple on his mistress and waited for her to try to stand. He watched amazed as she, with only one functional arm and a face full of maroon powder, quickly rolled herself onto her belly and started to get on her feet. The moment his mistress got her knees under her, he gave the back of her head a powerful kick and sent her face first into the ground. Then, he leaped onto her back to finish the grim task he started. He found trying to get a grip on his mistress's leg while preventing her from bucking him off a tricky task and he had to endure several kicks to the head before he managed to get a grip on one of her legs by the knee and ankle. As he twisted the limb in an unnatural manner, he continued to endure countless blows from his mistress's other leg.

Again, with the unpleasant pop he felt came another change in the screams of his mistress.

Finished, he leaped off of her and picked up the sparring club and got into a fighting stance. To his amazement, his mistress was able to regain her footing and pull her sword from its sheath in nearly the same amount of time he took to get ready to fight. Like the ambush predator he blinded some time ago, he watched as she blindly assaulted the air around her. The sound her sword made as it was swung told him that his mistress was no longer using the flat side of her sword. Which, in turn, told him that she was now trying to kill him. 

He knew that his mistress was now both unable to abscond and that her fighting ability was halved. Figuring that the effects of the maroon powder were not going to last forever, he began circling around his mistress looking for any exploitable openings in her defenses. With each one he discovered, he bludgeoned the still functional shoulder, hip, knee, and elbow joints of his mistress with the sparring club. Based on how easy he found to pierce her defenses, he quickly came to the conclusion that this battle was already over and that it was just a matter of wearing her down. Despite the one-sided nature of this battle, he spent a half an hour clubbing her in to complete helplessness and with a final blow, he sent his mistress's sword flying from her grasp. 

He stood, panting, and watched his mistress slowly crawl towards her weapon and attempt to wield it again. While she could get her fingers around the hilt of her sword, he clearly saw she had no strength left to lift it with. This observation told him this battle was finished and he turned towards the cave entrance and started walking towards it, just like his mistress had done to him countless times before. Before he could take his first step, he heard behind him a blood curdling scream and he quickly turned around and assumed a defensive stance. However, he soon saw that his paranoia was for nothing as he noticed that his mistress was now face down on the ground and her sword had rolled from grasp yet again. A few feet behind her, he saw some disturbed ground from where she tried to launch her surprise attack from. 

He turned back to the cave and resumed walking, each step triggering yet another inhuman scream. These screams forced him to give his mistress some respect for her willingness to fight to the death. As he neared the cave entrance boulder, he became bothered about this latest conflict with his mistress. Unlike the rare times before where he came close to beating her, there was neither a sense of triumph nor the warm glow of glory. Instead, he felt empty inside. As he struggled to get past the entrance boulder, he heard his mistress scream out his moniker.


	22. From Black, to Pale

Back inside the cave, he cooked and ate his meal in peace and quiet for the first time that he could recall. Yet, this meal did not feel right to him. He felt odd to admit it, but without his mistress's constant pestering things felt boring. He got up to look through cracks around the entrance boulder at his mistress. She was back on her feet, slowly limping back towards the cave. He went to his usual sleeping place and laid down so that he could watch his mistress enter the cave. For a few minutes, there was incredible amount of screaming from outside, but the entrance boulder refused to budge. Then, bit by bit, the boulder shifted. He watched the gaps around the widen steadily and wondered if this was what his mistress saw when he first struggled his way into the cave.

He continued to observe and, eventually, saw his mistress slip past the boulder and into the cave. From there she hopped towards the back chamber on her one good leg while using her sword as a cane to keep her balance. Seeing her humbled so only reinforced the feeling that something was terribly wrong. He closed his eyes and tried sleep, but the image of the mental sacrificial fire from before kept reappearing whenever he closed his eyes, thus preventing any restful sleep. He tossed and turned through the night while wondering what was wrong with himself. When morning came, he quickly got ready for a hunt and left the cave. 

Being away from his mistress made him feel a little better, and over the course of the day he hunted. Once he returned to the cave, he started a fire and began roasting the meat from his kills. He soon noticed the absence of his mistress as he cooked. No pieces of meat mysteriously disappeared nor there were any clever ruses to distract him from his meal preparations. All he heard from his mistress was some faint scratching coming from the back chamber. Finished with his meal, he left the excess by the fire just to see if his mistress would take some.

He waited and saw her emerge from the back chamber and hop past the cooked meat without even a glance. Again, the feeling that something was wrong came upon him as he watched his mistress squeeze past the entrance boulder for her nightly hunt. After the boulder was put back into its place, he got up and watched her limp away towards the far trees. He noticed that her two dislocated limbs were hanging uselessly off her frame. As he laid down sleep, the mental sacrificial fire resumed its appearances in his sleep deprived minds eye. For hours it kept appearing and in a fit of anger and frustration, he reached into it's flames and recovered some vital part of himself. A warm feeling spread throughout his body and an old feeling that he had not felt in the past few days made itself fully known to him.

Remorse. 

At first, he rebelled at the guilty feelings welling up inside him. After all, he tried to justify to himself, he finally won a direct and armed confrontation against his mistress and that what was important. But, this excuse felt as empty and hollow as his victory over his mistress did. Again, he tossed and turned for second night while wrestling with this shame he had managed to bring upon himself. He was unable to find source of this feeling until his mistress returned unexpectedly early from her hunt.

Raising himself up from his half slumber, he noticed that, again, she had problems entering the cave. When his mistress finally entered the cave, he gasped at the numerous scratches and bite marks she had on her body. Furthermore, her clothing was torn in some areas and soaked with her blood color in others. But worse of all, he saw she had returned from her nightly hunt empty-handed. As she slowly hopped on one leg past him, he began thinking about their relationship together and recent events. He recalled that in all of their fights and sparring, she only battered and bruised him. Furthermore, when his mistress stole food and materials from him, she never truly interfered with his ability to provide for himself. But what he did to her, he finally realized, went so far beyond the even worst things his mistress ever inflicted on him. Instantly, the reason for his feelings became crystal clear to him.

He had crippled her. 

Suddenly, the feelings of regret and shame became so overpowering that he wished he could turn back time and prevent the damage in had inflicted on his mistress. While he knew that was a frivolous wish, he recalled that he could, at the very least, repair the damage he caused her. Quickly, he got up and blocked her way into the corridor that lead towards the dark back chamber. He noticed that his mistress's reaction was to threaten him with her sword and to get a fierce expression on her face. He tried maneuvering around her to get to her shoulder, but his mistress refused to let down her guard. Briefly, he considered knocking her down with the butt end of his spear, but he changed his mind when he suspected that plan would only make things worse.

He searched his memory hoping to find some way of getting close enough to reset his mistress's arm. After a few moments, he recalled the communal camp that he and she visited so long ago and how he observed that some of the strange had a calming effect on their more hot tempered counter-parts. Next, he remembered that his mistress had used the same calming ritual on him when he aimed his bow at her with deadly intent. Figuring he had nothing left to lose, he closed his eyes, extended his arm towards his mistress, and let out a long and calming sound.

"Ssssssssshhhhhuuuuuuussssshhhh..." 

He risked a small step towards his mistress and repeated the sound. Then, again, another step and repeated the calming sound. After the fifth tiny step towards his mistress, he could feel the side of her face. He slowly opened his eyes as he began lightly stroking her cheek. He could easily see the rage in face, but at the same time he saw a calmness starting to creep into her facial features. He kept he mind focused on helping his mistress and continued the calming ritual. Once he saw her eyes close contently, he carefully hunkered down and placed her dislocated arm on his shoulder and slowly started positioning the limb to be reset. As he did so, he carefully watched for any signs of anger or hate on his mistress's face. Whenever they did appear, he stopped the process and resumed the calming ritual. After many minutes of careful positioning, he finally gave her shoulder a good hard slap and saw that joint had popped back into its proper place.

He reward for this deed was a pained scream from his mistress and surprisingly powerful punch delivered by her freshly restored arm.

He staggered away from her by the blow and when he recovered he saw that his mistress was completely livid. Knowing that his job was only half done, he closed his eyes and restarted the calming ritual. His ears told him that she was not buying his act this time based the angry shouting and the sounds her sword making. He continuously repeated the ritual and kept his mind focused on helping his mistress. After what seemed to him to be an hour, he heard her finally start to calm. Taking this change in his mistress's vocalization as sign, he started his slow advance towards her with his eyes closed and one hand stretched out towards her. However, after few small steps towards his mistress, he felt the tip of her sword against his neck. He stopped his advance and kept repeating the calming sound while refusing to back away from his mistress. 

For several minutes this stalemate persisted, and for a brief moment he felt the pressure of his mistress on his neck increase just before vanishing. He kept his mind on the task at hand and ignored the fresh trickle of blood he felt running down his neck. With a few more steps he was able to start stroking one side of his mistress's face and slowly opened his eyes. Again, he judged her mood carefully and when he felt it was time, he started positioning her dislocated leg to reset it. Several times his mistress attempted to become upset again, but in the end his persistence paid off and he was able to finally get her disabled leg in the proper position and angle. Then, with a quick and hardy slap, he restored the limb to its proper geometry.

A swift kick from the restored limb was his reward this time.

He was knocked on to his back by the force in the kick. Above him, he saw his mistress pointing at the center of his chest with her sword. He looked at the face of his mistress and tried to read her emotions. From what he could see, she was experiencing an incredible amount of anger and, at the same time, confusion. It was obvious to him that his mistress really wanted to run him through with her sword, but something new was now preventing her from doing so. Figuring it would be better for him to die standing than on the ground, he started to stand up. Once upright, he looked at his mistress's face again and could tell that she was really thinking recent events over. He waited as the minutes passed and continued to study her face for any signs that she had made her decision. Suddenly and without any warning, she looked at him through narrowed eyes and all traces of confusion suddenly disappeared. Then, she grabbed the meat he had left near the fire and abscond into the dark back chamber with it. 

He breathed a sigh of relief, as this behavior seemed normal to him.

He laid himself down to sleep and rested. In the morning he went hunting. During this hunt, he experimented with maroon powder filled mud balls to test their effectiveness on the local wildlife. The initial successful results encouraged him to try the same experiments on more dangerous prey. He journeyed into the regions where the most dangerous creatures roamed. Once there, he spotted some tracks that belonged to a juvenile specimen of an indigo blooded reptilian monster. He doggedly followed the trail and found the man sized creature feeding on a recent kill. After examining the wind's direction, he made his approach and was able to blind the creature with one of his maroon powder filled mud balls. While it was attempting to claw out its own eyes, he gave a quick stab to each of the creature's ear holes. These strikes incapacitated the juvenile reptilian monster and, with a few dozen stabs into its chest cavity, he finally finished it off. He quickly processed his kill for the hides and its meat and returned to his mistress cave.

On the way back, he tasted the raw meat of his kill and realized that the barbecue sauce he had developed would go great with the flavor of the meat. He changed his path to where he had stashed his collection of skulls and began making a fresh batch of the sauce. After he visited the alien bee hive for some honey, he made his way to the dew pond for water. On his way there, he again failed to resist the temptation to repeatedly sample the alien honey enriched paste. By the time he had thinned out the sauce with water from dew pond, he was feeling the awakened sensation again and experiencing the mild hallucinations that came with it. As he entered his mistress's cave he noticed that there were many hours daylight left and speculated that his mistress would be still asleep. Once inside, he quickly got a cooking fire going and began roasting the indigo colored meat from his hunt. 

The moment the meat started to sizzle, he sensed that his mistress had awakened in the back chamber and that she was in a fell mood. He wrestled with this sudden awareness and asked himself how did he know this. Searching his feelings, he became aware that he currently had the same sensation of being in tune with his surroundings that he often felt after consuming the alien honey. A sudden change in the pacing of his mistress's steps drew his attention to back her. This new pace exactly matched her movements when he observed her sneaking about. With this knowledge, he understood she was hunting something.

A heartbeat later, he realized it was him she was stalking.

He welcomed this development. While restoring her limbs did much to appease his conscience, he still felt that he deserved to punished for the manner in which he had defeated her. He did not look up from the cooking meat when he sensed that his mistress had entered the main chamber of the cave. Nor, did he respond as he felt her presence creeping up behind. Accepting that his punishment was near, he carefully pulled the partially roasted meat from the fire and set it aside. He felt it would be a shame for it to burn if this beating turned out to be a full one.

Taking a deep breath, he could feel his mistress glaring at the back of his head as if she intended to burn a hole through his skull. As the seconds went by, he wondered why she was not attacking him. Once a few minutes passed, he began wishing for her to dish out his punishment so their relationship could go back to normal again. Eventually, the tension was too much for him to bear any longer and he decided if his mistress would not attack, then he would force the issue. He took a deep breath and leaped backwards while executing an acrobatic pirouette and caught his mistress in a headlock. At that moment, he felt a tremendous strength as she tried to escape from his grapple. Quickly, he understood her reason for not attacking right away. 

She was building up her hate fueled strength so that she could kill him with her bare hands!

Realizing he had just caught a tiger by its tail, he maintained his hold on his mistress's neck and swung her around in an attempt to keep her off balance. His strategy did not work as he intended as any surface his mistress could find traction on was used by her to send both of them flying from one side of the cave to the other. From the floor, into the walls, and even up into the ceiling, there was no surface left in the cave that he was forced to become familiar with by the terrible strength of his off balanced mistress. He even lost his sense of "up" as the minutes passed and his mistress kept up her furious rebounding. Despite battering he endured, he kept his hold on his mistress's neck as the fatigue and pain induced mental fog slowly crept over him.

When he was finally lucid of his surroundings again, he still had his mistress in a headlock. But, she now was hanging limply by her neck, spent. He felt completely exhausted and decided to release her. Looking down at where his mistress fell to the floor, he noticed that she still glared at him through her narrowed eyes. Since he was neither in the mood for another battle nor to be understanding of her wants and needs he gave her a tired, but sorrowful look and went back to cooking. As he resumed roasting the meat from his hunt he heard his mistress grumbling to herself. Curious, he turned his head and looked at her. 

His mistress was still sitting on the ground, but what he saw on her face made him feel pity for her. The same confused look from before had returned, but that soon changed to another expression that he had not seen in months. What he saw currently on his mistress's face perfectly matched the same look she had after they had killed the fully mature reptilian monster together, rejection. He refocused on cooking his meal and tried to ignore the renewed remorseful feelings inside himself. But, they soon forced him to glance back at his mistress. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

Suddenly, he felt like the biggest jerk in the entire universe.


	23. From Pale to...

Whatever she expected of him in terms of this alien relationship, he now understood that he could not provide it. He did not know what to do about this situation or even how comfort his mistress. He did not know the words in the strange folk's language to do so or if they even had such words. He flipped the meat from his most recent hunt over and gave it some of the barbecue sauce he had created. Even the wonderful aroma that soon filled the air failed to distract him from the terrible understanding that was slowly creeping into his mind. By trying to keep up this strange hateful relationship with his mistress, he had effectively used her.

Now, after finally defeating her, he felt like he was dumping her.

The guilty feelings he was now suffering caused him to consider purging himself of his conscience again. But, the feeling that his mistress was now standing behind him again distracted him. Slowly, he turned his head and looked at her. He saw that her eyes were focused on the meat he was roasting and he quickly recalled that she had not much to eat in the last few days. Suddenly, her eyes focused on him and they did not become narrow slits. While this change in behavior by his mistress struck him as odd, he decided try something new. He looked back at the meat on the fire and cut off a portion that was nearly cooked. After skewering this morsel on his obsidian skinning knife, he brought it to his mouth and blew on it to cool it down. Then, he turned and brought the barbecue sauce laden chunk of roasted meat slowly towards his mistress's mouth. For a few moments, she did nothing but stare longingly at the meat. Then, he remembered what she had commanded him many times before, then spoke her people's the words for "consume, yes". 

To his amazement, his mistress opened her mouth and carefully bit. He watched her chew and then swallow the meat. Based on the way she resumed looking hopefully at the rest of the meat on the fire, he concluded that she wanted more. He searched and found another portion of meat that was close to being done and presented that piece to his mistress. Again, she carefully bit and consumed the meat. Astonished that he was now feeding his mistress, he continued looking for additional pieces of meat that were almost finished roasting and fed those to her. Until, he came to the final portion. When he presented the last piece to his mistress, his stomach growled loudly. He became dumbfounded at the next words of his mistress.

"yours, consume!"

Stunned, he walked over to his spot in the cave and sat down. As he slowly ate his dinner, he watched his mistress begin the long process of cleaning up the interior. When he finished his meal, he joined the cleanup effort. While he did so, he occasionally sensed that his mistress was watching him. However, his every attempt at catching her looking at him resulted in her quickly turning away to tidy something. Even if the object his mistress was suddenly sprucing up had been previously made shipshape several times before by her. Based on this, he suspected that she was playing some sort of new game with him. But, the lack of hatred he felt coming from his mistress made he wonder what her intentions were. He stopped trying to catch her looking at him for a bit and focused on her meanderings inside the cave while he cleaned. Once he felt he had his mistress's path worked out, he intercepted her and caught a glimpse of her face before she quickly disappeared down the corridor that lead to the dark back chamber. He was not completely sure, but in the flickering light of the cooking fire he saw the face his mistress had a bit of her blood color on it. 

He did not know what to make of this development. Perhaps, he speculated, his mistress had a fever or some other sickness. Then, he recalled that over the past year or so he had never seen any his mistress suffer any form of illness. He thought about recent events some more and decided to sleep on this conundrum. As he rested, he sensed that his mistress was in the back chamber. From what he could determine, she was making modifications to the wall of small figures. While this activity struck him as odd, he recalled that was not the first time he sensed that she was making alterations to that wall. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought of various methods of generating light so that he could explore the back chamber of this cave again.

When he woke, the rays of morning light shining through the cracks around the entrance boulder told him what time it was. The injuries he sustained last night made themselves known as he roused himself awake. He sat up, yawned, and stretched out his arms. Only to have one of his out stretched arms come in contact with something round, hairy, and had a stylish, but serviceable hat impaled on a pair of horns. Once his sleep encumbered eyes were able to focus on the form next to him, he saw it was his mistress that he had just lightly bopped on the head

Instantly, he got ready for a fight.

He waited for the first attack to be launched, but all his mistress did was give him a bemused look and resumed mending her clothing. Once satisfied that he was not going to be on the receiving end of some violence, he got ready for his usual hunt. As he did so, he wondered if his mistress gone back to her old habit of watching him sleep. As creepy as this thought was, it would explain her close proximity when he awakened he speculated. He finished getting ready and left the cave to hunt and to distance himself from the weird situation created by his mistress. He recalled she acted similarly when she emancipated him, but now, his mistress was acting a little too friendly. 

Because of the bruising he had suffered, this hunt was unproductive and he was forced to consume plants and vermin to ease the hunger inside him. His frustration with the poor hunt made him resolve to make a new bow as soon as possible. By the time the red star above him had set, he returned to the cave empty-handed. Once he made his way pass the entrance boulder, he noticed his mistress was awake and getting ready for her hunt nightly. As he rested in his usual spot, he noticed that his mistress kept looking at him and, then the fire. This behavior told him that his returning from his hunt with nothing to show for it did not go unnoticed by her. Feeling just a little hungry, he went to sleep as his mistress left the cave to hunt.

His rest was interrupted by the sound of sizzling meat. He roused himself awake and wondered how he managed to sleep through the entrance boulder being moved and the cooking fire being started. He soon got noticed by his mistress who quickly rushed over to the large leg on the cooking fire and cut of a large chunk. Next, she skewered the chunk on the tip of her sword and brought it over to him. He looked at the partially burnt and partially raw chunk of meat, then back at her. She smiled so broadly that she nearly revealed all of her sharp teeth and spoke a series of words of which he understood only two, "yours" and "consume" 

Since he still was not in the mood for another fight, he graciously accepted the offering by biting into the meaty chunk and pulling it off the tip of her sword. Next, he grabbed the meal with his hands and began biting off the raw and semi cooked portions. These mouthfuls he could stomach well enough as he had developed a taste for raw meat sometime ago. He continued to eat his meal while watching his mistress as this sudden change in her personality was alarming and it made him a little suspicious. But, the real reason he watched her as he ate was the hope she would turn around before he got to the burnt portions of the meat she gave him. He knew that his mistress had many talents, but cooking sure was not one of them.

Mercifully, his mistress turned towards the cooking fire. At that moment, he quickly stripped the worst of the burnt meat from his meal and secreted these pieces in the many cracks and crevices that surrounded his area of the cave. Then, he made yet another mental note to get these rejected portions of burnt meat out of the cave before they start to rot. He resumed his meal and watched his mistress return from the fire with an even larger portion of meat than before. He started to feel a little queasy when the thought entered his mind that she expected him to eat this chunk as well. He breathed a sigh of relief when she instead sat in front of him and started eating. In between mouthfuls, he would hear his mistress would say a series of words that he did not understand. After some thought however, he recognized that there was a pattern to the way his mistress spoke. Then, inspiration hit him! 

His mistress was trying to teach him her people's language!

He looked at her and paid careful attention to the next series of words that his mistress spoke. Lacking any understanding, he decided to parrot her words back at her which seemed to please her. To his horror, his mistress bit off a large bite from her chunk of meat and offered it to him. Realizing that he just managed to request additional food from her, he patted his stomach and spoke the strange folk word for "no" and pretend to get sleepy by yawning in an exaggerated manner. He ignored her attempts at giving him additional food and tried to go to sleep. As he rested, he could hear his mistress continue to eat her meal noisily. Once she finished, he heard her go back to the fire and come back. Again, the annoying lip smacking and other sounds of culinary pleasure found their way into his ears. Eventually, these sounds disappeared and were in turn were replaced by the feeling his mistress was once again watching him sleep. With this awareness, sleep took its sweet time to find him, but when finally got used to it he felt himself finally slipping into sleep. Then, without warning, he sensed something new that dragged him back into the waking world.

He felt his mistress's hand on his shoulder.

His heart started to pound as he tensed up. He knew the incredible amount of harm his mistress could cause in a short amount of time with her bare hands. This knowledge kept him alert to any signal that she might launch a sneak attack on his person as he lie still. Suddenly, the hand of mistress vanished. After several minutes of hearing nothing but the crackle of the dying cooking fire, he started to relax. Once again just as he was about to fall asleep, when the hand of his mistress returned. As a result, the well honed combat instincts beaten into him forced him to a state of combat readiness. At that moment, he wanted yell at his mistress in the hope of driving the annoying hand away. However, when he rolled over to do so, he saw the eyes of his mistress were not the familiar narrow strips yellow he had known for so long. They were open fully and he could not detect a hint of hate in them.

He studied her eyes for a few moments before turning back over in another attempt to get some sleep. As he lied on the cave floor, he thought about this change in his mistress behavior. He did not get very far in his pondering before he felt her hand on his head this time. He brushed it away and let out a big sigh. After a few deep breaths, he relaxed and felt sleep begin to take him. Only for the annoying hand of his mistress to return, this time on his back. Again, he was wide awake once more. This game of hers persisted until morning. As he listened to the red-eyed scavengers make their pass, he decided that the only way for him to get any rest was to sleep outside the cave. He got up, dressed, armed himself with his spear, and made his out of the cave. Once outside, he put his back against the entrance boulder and was, finally, able to sleep. 

He awoke when he felt the boulder behind him stirring. As he got on his feet, he quickly noticed that night had fallen and became aware that his mistress was about to leave for her nightly hunt. As his mistress passed him, his stomach growled loudly. He became embarrassed at the noise and even more so when she stopped and looked at him with a big grin of her face. Since there no denying that he was very hungry, he thought about what he should do. Just as his mistress started walking away, he tried his best to repeat the series of words that he spoke last night in the cave. To his amazement, his fumbled utterance caused his mistress to stop suddenly and then turn around slowly. With quick look at her face, he saw that she was again smiling broadly again. After a brief moment, she spoke her people's word for "Follow".

Quickly, he realized that his mistress was taking him into the more dangerous regions for this night's hunt. He did his best to keep up his mistress movements in the night, but like the times they went out before she always managed to slip further away with every few minutes of travel. This was not much of a concern for him, he had already discovered a method, as unpleasant as it was, to travel safely at night. His biggest trouble now was following her boot prints over hard ground and stones. He often found himself stumped on which direction his mistress vanished into the night. Only to find her some distance away on some small hill or using her sword to reflect the light of the moons at him. 

Eventually, he caught up with his mistress. She was on ridge, looking down on a pair of ambush predators feasting on a recent kill. As he neared his mistress, she pointed at the smaller of the two ambush predators and whispered the strange folk word for "yours". Then, she left him to circle around to get a good angle to strike at her target. Left with a target of his own, he checked the direction of the wind and slowly made his approach towards the smaller of the two ambush predators. As he stalked closer, he saw his mistress, sword drawn, making her approach from the other direction. Behind her, he saw another set of eyes belonging to a previously unseen third ambush predator stalking his mistress. He instantly realized that he did not time to assess the situation. He had to act now with what he had in his hands. He stood up, reared back, and took aim at the set of large feline like eyes following his mistress. Then, putting everything into this one throw, he hurled his obsidian tipped spear. All he hoped for was just enough noise to alert his mistress to the danger behind her.

What he heard instead was a pained roar followed by something big and heavy hitting the ground. 

He did not have time to relish his lucky strike, as the two feasting ambush predators reacted to the pained roar by instantly standing up and looking in the direction of his mistress. Aware that his mistress was still in danger, he pulled out his skinning knife and leaped on the back of the smaller ambush predator while praying that his mistress could defeat the larger one before it turned on him. As he landed on the smaller predator, he wrapped his legs around its body and with his empty hand reached forward, grabbed its snout, and pulled back as hard he possibly could. The moment the smaller ambush predator raised its head to free its snout, he began furiously stabbing its neck with his skinning knife. He continued his attack as the smaller ambush predator rolled onto its side and attempted to claw its way free of his viscous assault. His jacket and pants bore the brunt of the smaller ambush predators claws, but as the battle for survival continued he began feel his skin begin to be sliced open as his increasingly shredded clothing gave him less and less protection. Despite the pain he felt, he maintained his death grip on the smaller ambush predator's snout and never stopped stabbing at its vulnerable throat.

Until, something grabbed his wrist.


	24. Red

Looking up, he was relieved to see that his mistress was safe and that it was her, not some angry ambush predator, who had a hold of his wrist. She smiled at him and spoke a three words in her people's language, of which he only understood the words for "you" and "it". The word between the two he knew was one he had not heard before. What surprised him most was the impressed tone his mistress used to speak those words. As he pushed the body of the ambush predator off of himself with one hand, he noticed that he had nearly stabbed and slashed his way through its neck with his skinning knife during his battle with the creature. Next, he was forced to stand by his mistress pulling him onto his feet by his wrist which was still holding. Once upright, he pulled along by his wrist by her towards where he had thrown his spear. As he walked, he felt a faint trickle running down the side of his body. Looking down, he noticed he was leaving a crimson trail behind.

Once he neared where he had thrown his spear, he saw that it had found its home in the eye of one of the largest ambush predators he had ever seen. The sheer size of the thing put the saber-tooth tiger displays in museums back home to shame. Again, his mistress excitedly pointed to this dead creature and repeated the same three words from before in an even more excited tone. Upon seeing his confusion what the unknown word meant, she pretended to cut her own throat and change her facial expression to that of a corpse. From this, he guessed that the meaning of the unknown word had to be "kill" 

He watched his mistress as she started processing her kill and noticed she appeared to be unharmed, except for some olive blood from the ambush predator her killed on her cheeks. At first, he was happy he was able to protect her. But, this observation soon raised his suspicions and soon other facts began popping up in his mind. In particular, the third and very large ambush predator that was stalking his mistress. In his opinion, she should have noticed it easily. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed that his mistress was leading the creature to him. That thought caused him wonder what her motivations were for doing such a thing. He did not get much time to examine that last thought as his empty stomach grumbled loudly again.

He tried to bend over and cut a suitable morsel from kill, but the pain of his injuries made him stop. He spent a few moments to inspect the wounds he had received from the smaller ambush predator and noticed that most were superficial. However, a few were deeper and required cleaning, stitching, and possibly treatment with the fiery maroon plant. He looked at his two kills and frowned. There was a lot meat and hides here and he knew he was in no condition to harvest any of it. He was certain that his mistress would quick to take advantage of his loss, she was an opportunist after all. Reluctantly, he made the decision to return to his mistress's cave while still had the strength to do so. He guessed that these injuries would two or more weeks to heal. During that downtime, he knew he would have to live on vermin and plants again, but that did not bother him. He had done so before. Grunting in pain, he recovered his spear and used it as a staff to lean on as he started the long walk back.

As soon as he made his first step, his mistress appeared before him with an olive blooded chunk of meat in her hand. She held in front of his mouth and spoke her people's word for "consume". Curious, he looked at the ground and followed the olive blood trail back to her kill. This, he realized, was completely new. She had fed him before from his own kills, but never before did she let him have the first bite from one of her kills. He briefly wondered why she was being nice to him all of a sudden before opening his mouth and accepting her gift. As he chewed the raw meat, he watched as his mistress ripped the most damaged sections of his jacket into strips. Then, she used those strips to bind his wounds. The trickle he felt from before slowed and then stopped. 

The meat and the stopping his bleeding made he feel better and caused him to change his mind about returning to his mistress's cave. He kept watch while his mistress processed the three dead ambush beasts' hides and butchered as much meat from them as she could carry. He tried to help, but only succeed in causing some of his bindings to break and his wounds to start to bleed again. After a second round of medical treatment by his mistress, he followed her back to her cave. During the trip back, he was forced to admit he was starting to like this new side of her.

He diverted from his mistress's path once they neared the cave. After a quick visit, the dew pond to clean his injuries, he entered the cave and located his supply of silk thread and the obsidian and bone needles he used for stitching. He took a deep breath and began the long and painful process of closing his wounds. He picked a wound on his leg to stitch close first, but after he had made the first stitch of many he heard his mistress walk over to where he was.

In her hand was one of her smallest metal sewing needles.

He looked it and then back at his mistress and spoke the strange folk's word for "mine?". She smiled and spoke her people's word for "No" and then bombarded him with a series of alien words that he did not understand. Taking a gamble that his mistress was only loaning him her metal needle, he carefully took it from her hand and worked one of his silk threads through the needle's eye. Then, he resumed his stitching. He was quick to notice that the small metal needle made the unpleasant process less painful and quicker than using either his bone or obsidian substitutes. He finished stitching the wounds on his leg and on the side of his body. Then, he became aware that his mistress had been watching him sewing his wounds closed the entire time. He examined his arm and noticed that there were two gashes on it that needed stitching. Since his mistress had been in a helpful mood the past day or so, he figured it would be easier for her to sew the wounds on his arm than it would be for him to do so one-handed. 

He quickly discovered that he was wrong.

The instant his mistress understood his meaning behind his sewing motions and his pointing at his injuries, the confused look from before reappeared on her face and she backed way rapidly while chanting her people's word for "no". This behavior struck him as very odd and it made him wonder what was going on with her. With a sigh, he started sewing the wounds on his arm shut. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his mistress sneaking closer and closer to him. He intentionally slowed his stitching and let her observe the whole process while he took care of the final injury on his arm. Throughout this operation, he glanced at his mistress's face and to read her facial expression. From what he could determine, she was in a state of disbelief. Perhaps, he thought, she believed that he was engaging in some form of ritualistic self-abuse. Finishing his stitching with a final tug and knot, he returned the now bloody needle to his mistress. 

He got on his feet and slowly stretched and twisted his body to test his range of motion with the stitches in him. They hampered his movements somewhat and he made a mental note not to engage in any strenuous activities until the stitches were removed. Looking around the cave, he noticed that his mistress had started eating some of meat she had brought back from their hunt together. He caught himself gazing longingly at the olive colored flesh in her hands and turned away from his mistress. He knew he could repeat the series of alien words to get some meat from his mistress, but that felt like begging to him. Although he was hungry, he decided to wait for the morning so he could forage something to eat. With nothing left to do, he went over to his usual spot in the cave and laid down to sleep.

Only to discover that there was a mysterious lump under him.

He got into a sitting position and picked up a small ambush predator hide wrapped bundle. In it was decent sized chunk of meat from the same type of creature. Looking back at his mistress, he saw no signs of acknowledgment from her of the bundle. Figuring this was her covert way of giving him something to eat, he walked over to the cooking fire and started roasting the meat from the bundle. The instant the meat started to sizzle, his mistress appeared beside him. When the meat was half done, he turned it over. Then, he looked at his mistress. In her hands was the large chunk of meat that she had already taken a few messy bites from, so much so that he noticed that she had gotten some of the olive blood from the meat on her cheeks. Now, she was eyeing the meat on the fire. He let out a sigh, then he spoke the words in her people's language for "yours, consume" and pointed to the nearly perfectly roasted meat on the fire. The speed at which his mistress swapped the two chunks of meat amazed him. 

With nothing better to do at the moment, he began roasting the piece of meat his mistress left on the fire and when it was almost done, she was there with another, even larger hunk of meat. He did not bother speaking. Instead, he just pointed at the meat on the fire. His mistress quickly swapped the two pieces of meat and went back to eating. This newest piece of meat was so big that he was forced to divide it into two portions so that they would cook properly. Again, when the two pieces were finished cooking, his mistress seemed to appear at the fire ready for more. He just shook his head and backed away from the fire and just pointed. When he looked back at the fire, there was still one piece left. He picked it up and walked over to his mistress and waved the unclaimed roasted at her. She stopped her eating just long enough for her to speak the strange folk's word for "yours". Immediately, he sat down at the place he was standing and started eating.

As he chewed, he heard his mistress speak another string of alien alien words. He grunted in frustration as he struggled to make heads or tails of what just said. While he was thankful that she was teaching him new words again, her current method of teaching left much to be desired. Furthermore, he got the impression from his mistress that he was supposed to learn her people's language without the aide of any context. He calmed himself and listened carefully to his mistress words as she repeated her previous phrase. Most of the words were unknown to him. However, when he compared this string of alien words with the other strings his mistress spoke to him he recognized a pattern in how they were put together. In his mind, he searched his very limited vocabulary and attempted to string together a basic sentence made from both words he did know and words that he did not. After taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, he spoke the following words in the strange folk's language. 

"(Unknown sentence starting word) fight beast (unknown possible conjunction word) kill it."

When he opened his eyes, he saw that his mistress had one hand over her mouth. Based on what he saw, he figured that he accidentally spoke something offensive. To correct this mistake, he spoke again, but swapped the ending part of the sentence with the beginning part. His mistress's response was to place her other hand over her mouth. He carefully studied her eyes and sensed that she was not offended. He spoke again, this time scrambling the words so badly that he mixed syllables from one word with another. His mistress's reaction was to explode with laughter. Feeling mildly offended, he turned his back towards his mistress and finished his meal. Behind him his ears still focused on her laughing. It was not the cruel mocking laugh that he heard before, rather this display of mirth seemed to be the by-product of a really good joke. He swallowed the last bite of his meal and returned to his spot in the cave and for some sleep.

Eventually, he heard the laughter coming from his mistress became giggles and, finally, disappeared completely. Then, he heard her footsteps as she came over to where he was trying to sleep. For a while nothing happened. However, just when he was about to drift off to sleep he felt her hand on his arm. Snapping instantly awake, he shook her hand off and tried again to sleep. Only to be thwarted again at threshold of slumber by his mistress's annoying hand. This time he did not shake off the hand. For several minutes, he rested on the ground and wondered what his mistress was doing. None of the answers he came up with made any sense, especially the thought that she was looking for an opportunity to strike back at him. She would have done so already, he calmly reminded himself since she had countless chances to kill him while he slept. 

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly and made the choice to tolerate his mistress's pawing. Soon, he felt the hand travel up to his head and back to his knees. He fought the urge to shoo his mistress and tolerated this newest annoyance. For hours he lay while her hand repeated its journey up and down the side of his body. Eventually, he got used to this treatment and breathed a sigh of relief when the hand finally left him. Figuring that he was free to finally get some shuteye, he relaxed. This time, just as he was about fall asleep, he felt the arms of his mistress wrap gently around him.

Instantly, he was wide awake.

At first, he was too shocked by this newest development to do anything, but remain still. Once he started hearing faint growls coming from his mistress, he realized that she was already asleep. The hairs on the back of his neck started to rise as he recalled the terrible nightmares his mistress suffered. He had managed to tune out her snarls and occasional shrieks over the year he had known her. Now however, he was extremely aware of her tendency to randomly strike out with a fist or foot during her nightmare throes. Looking down his torso, he saw that absconding was not an option due to the way his mistress had wrapped her arms around him. It was not very long before he could feel her fingers twitching and hear her make faint animalistic noises. Understanding that there was nothing he could do about his current predicament, he calmed and mentally prepared himself for a painful ordeal. 

As hours passed and to his pleasant surprise, he suffered no painful clawing, bites, punches, or kicks. What he found Even more surprising, was lack of any sort of loud vocalization on his mistress's part. Looking at her arms, he noticed that they were not wrapped as tightly as before and started working on escaping her hold him. He slowly rotated his body and looked at his mistress's body for the best way to escape. After squirming his way out of her arms, he sat next to his mistress and looked at her.

The first thing he noticed was the large splotches of olive color on her cheeks, which made him suspect that she ate her meal so greedily that she got the blood from the meat on her face. But, the lack of smears on the ground around her face contradicted that theory. Curious, he grabbed a small tuft of fur that was leftover from one of his crafting projects and attempted to gently wipe the blood from his mistress's cheeks. To his amazement, there was no blood on the tuft of fur. Looking back at her face, he noticed the coloration on her cheeks was slowly diminishing and that her nightmare throes were beginning to start up again. Suddenly, the reason for the change in the way his mistress had been treating hit him. 

Heart pounding, he compared how she normally slept with how she was sleeping with him in her arms and became very aware of the difference he made. He thought about this situation between him and his mistress for a few minutes. Then, he decided that if all she wanted from him was a decent night's sleep, then he was willing to provide that for her. He lowered himself beside his mistress's body and carefully put her arm around his body. Soon, he felt her pulling him closer and, after a few minutes, both her twitching and the noises she was making abated. Not long after, he started to drift off to sleep. Knowing that he had great respect and admiration for his mistress, he promised to himself that this was going to be limit of their new relationship and that it would not progress no further. He made this promise for one reason only.

He did not want face the terrible dilemma of being forced to choose between his mistress and ever returning home.


	25. Vacillation

He was alone when woke up from his slumber. For a brief moment he wondered if had dreamt the events of the last few days. After inspecting his injuries for any sign of infection, he looked through the cracks around the entrance boulder and saw that night had fallen. He spent few minutes breathing the crisp night air and guess that the season was changing again. As he wandered the interior of the cave, he smelled rotten meat. He followed the faint foul odor back to his sleep spot and slapped his forehead when he recalled that he had hidden the burnt portions of the meat his mistress gave him. As he carefully dug out these putrefying morsels, he began to smile as he became aware of what had transpired between him and his mistress really did happen.

Once he had found all the rotting burnt portions of meat, he tried moving the entrance boulder so he could dispose of his unpleasant cargo. His initial attempt failed due to the sensation that the stitches that held his wounds closed were about to tear through his flesh. After looking around for something to help him move the entrance boulder, his eyes fell upon his spear. He picked it up and worked it butt in to one of the cracks around the entrance boulder. Then, bit by bit, he levered the boulder away from the cave's mouth until he was able to slip past it. He disposed of the rotting meat in a discrete location and found some plants to eat. After taking care of his needs, he spent the remainder of the night stargazing by the dew pond. 

When the time that he expected his mistress to return from her hunt arrived he returned to the cave. Again, the entrance boulder and his recently stitched injuries thwarted his attempts to enter. Yet again, he resorted to using his spear as a lever to gain entry to the cave. This grueling work took longer than he had expected due to the entrance boulder's frustrating tendency to roll back into its place if not moved far enough. With many angry curse words uttered, he finally was able to succeed in gaining entry to the cave. He rested a few moments before slipping past the boulder. In do so, he became aware that he was being watched. Turning around, he saw his mistress was behind him with the spoils of her hunt and was trying to stifling her laughter by placing one hand over her mouth. He guessed that she had watched his entire struggle with the entrance boulder. Letting an exasperated groan escape his mouth, he turned to enter the cave.

Back inside, he watched his mistress go straight towards the cooking area and got a fire going. He cringed as he watched her start to cook. Based on past observations, he speculated that his mistress was going to try her usual cooking method, which was to slap a large chunk of meat directly on the roaring fire and pull it out when she could smell it burn. He decided that he could no longer tolerate this abuse of meat and walked over to his mistress and began shooing her away from the fire. Next, he began to slice the meat on the fire into even portions and placed them around the fire. Once he began flipping and rotating the divided meat so they would cook evenly, he glanced at his mistress and saw that she seemed fascinated with his basic cooking skills. After a few minutes, he discovered that one piece of meat that had finished cooking. He carefully skewered it with his skinning knife blew on it to cool it down. Then, he presented it to his mistress for her consumption. 

As she chewed, he watched amazed as her blood color slowly appeared on her cheeks.

One by one, he fed his mistress the remaining pieces of nearly perfectly cooked meat until two pieces remain. Then, she spoke several of her people's words, of which he only understood the one for "yours". He carefully skewered the last two portions of meat and sat down in his usual spot. Noticing that his mistress was quick to sit beside him, he slowly chewed his meal. Suddenly, his mistress began to bombard him with a ceaseless stream of alien words. At first, he thought that she was trying to teach him to speak her language again. Which he thought was odd as he still had plenty left to eat. But, as he listened to her words, he noticed she never fully repeated herself. He continued to eat his meal and carefully listened. Eventually, he was able figure out the words that might be for "and", "or", and what seemed to be "I". But, what he was really got a feel for was the way his mistress talked, her rhythm, cadence, and tone. When he finally finished his meal, he tried to speak another sentence in the strange folk's speech, but this time he mimicked his mistress's voice. It was not a perfect match, but his attempt at speaking like her generated an unexpected response from his mistress.

For a split second, her eyes narrowed hatefully.

Then, he saw the look of confusion reappear on her face and noticed her blood color was slowly beginning to fade from her cheeks. He quickly became aware that he had done something to offend his mistress and decided to try speaking again, this not using her voice. The first attempt brought a smile to her face. The next, forced her to place hand to over her mouth. The third attempt caused her to burst out laughing. This time he did not mind. Tired from a full stomach, he laid down to sleep. Soon, he felt her lie next to him and put her arms around him again. 

The next few days of his recovery played out like first. He would struggle with the entrance boulder to tend to his own needs while his mistress would go out hunting. When she returned, he would cook the meat of her kills. After his mistress was done eating, she began to talk in her people's language, for hours at a time. Quickly, he learned that this verbal exercise was not just for his educational benefit. He had the sneaking suspicion that his mistress had gone through a prolonged period in her life without anyone to converse with and now she was making up for lost time. For the first few days he endured well enough, as the alien words and how they were put together kept his mind busy. But, as he started to gain a limited understanding of her words boredom set in. This was not the usual "there is nothing to do" type of boredom, instead it was the more dreary and dull "I rather have a root canal than put up with this" kind of boredom. By the fifth day he became convinced that he was being talked to death and valiantly resisted the urge to thump his head against the cave wall in the vain hope that he was suffering from another mental attack.

By the sixth day, he succumbed to that temptation and discovered that it did not help. 

On the seventh day, after a marathon talking session that lasted well into the morning hours, he got up and walked over to the entrance boulder and screamed as he strained against it. He felt fresh pain from his injuries as he slowly moved the boulder out of his way, but found that was preferable to the chatterbox torture that he could no longer endure. With final shove he pushed the entrance boulder aside and walked into the morning light. He did not travel very far from his mistress's cave and spent a few minutes enjoying the peace and quiet. When he turned back towards the cave, he saw his mistress was at the entrance and on her face the look of rejection was slowly appearing. Suddenly, the idea that he was being selfish entered his head and with it came feelings of shame. Thinking things further, he reasoned it wasn't her talking that was making him crazy, it was all the down time from being hurt that was truly bothering him. He really needed to get out of the cave more often, but understood that would not happen if he kept stressing his injuries.

Having thought things over, he walked over to his mistress and looked her in the eyes. He really wanted to apologize, but he still did not have the words to do so. Instead, he put his arms around his mistress and gave her a hug. After a few moments, he felt her do the same. He returned his mistress's cave and put the entrance boulder back into its place with the aid of his spear. Then, he sat down at his usual spot and pointed at the place his mistress had been sitting during her talking sessions and gently spoke the strange folk words for "sit there". His mistress obliged and resumed her monologue. He found that the temporary respite outside gave him the endurance he needed for the next hour until his mistress finally yawned. Taking that as a sign that she was finished talking, he rolled onto his side and began to go to sleep. Soon, he felt his mistress joining him. 

The next several days went by quickly. Whenever he needed a break from his mistress's "conversation" time, he found more polite ways of interrupting her. He often spent these quiet moments walking just a few dozen paces outside the cave's entrance by himself at first. Then, his mistress began accompanying him on these walks when he took these respites at night. However, when these walks occurred during the morning hours she would wait in the entrance to her cave. Often during these walks he would look back at the cave's entrance to see his mistress watching him from a distance with a lonely look on her face. One day, he got a clue of how strong his mistress's feelings towards him were when she tried to follow him outside into the morning light. He was able to get her back into her cave before she burned, but soon discovered that he had to remain near the entrance during the day. Otherwise, his mistress would try again to walk in the light with him.

Once his wounds had healed enough to allow their stitches to removed, he began to feel restless. He searched his feelings as to why and came to the conclusion that he missed the meaner side of his mistress. While he liked the kindness and caring she was currently showing, he also enjoyed sparring, teasing, and competing with her. With this realization, he decided to provoke his mistress into showing her "mean" side once again. For the next few days he did everything he could to get her angry. He made a game of it, like poking a slumbering badger with very short stick. Each time he got her to look at him with those familiar hateful slits the hateful expression in her eyes lasted just little bit longer than the last, but would always disappear. 

After a few days of getting nowhere, he resorted to the one thing he knew his mistress despised, which was repeating her own words back to her in her own voice. He waited for the next talking session to begin started slowly. At first he would use her voice for a single word. However, as the session wore on he started adding words until he was speaking entire sentences just exactly as she would. By his mistress's shocked facial expression, he could tell that she knew that he was deliberately trying to rile her. He felt the temptation to smirk and this time he did not resist. His mistress's reaction was surprising, she turned around and crossed her arms in a huff. He tried to several times to annoy his mistress further, but had no luck. Once the possibility that he might have pushed her too far entered his mind, he laid down and tried to go to sleep. After a few minutes, he felt his mistress next to him.

This time he noticed that she did not put her arms around him. 

He was not surprised when he woke up due to a familiar pain in his ribs, nor was he when he saw the sparring club lying in front of him or even when he rolled over and saw his mistress standing beside him, contemptuously looking down at him, sword drawn and tapping its blade in the palm of her hand menacingly. This result was precisely what he was hoping for and he eagerly grabbed the club and looked for his jacket. He found it behind his mistress on the far side of the cave and on top of it was the small pouch full of maroon powder. Now aware he had only the use the sparring club, he saw that his mistress was now pointing towards her cave's entrance which was now unblocked. Looking through it, he saw that it was dark out and there was no trace of morning on the horizon. The awareness that his mistress was leaving nothing to chance made him as he ventured out of his mistress's cave. He walked a few paces away from the cave's entrance, turned around, and readied himself for what was coming. From the cave's entrance he saw his mistress emerge, on her face was large vicious grin. He watched her movements carefully as she stopped a few steps away from him and got into battle stance. After a quick staring contest, he heard his mistress screamed out the formal declaration of hostility and charged! 

He found her initial onslaught to nearly overwhelming due her increased speed. He struggled with his defenses and wondered if she had been holding back all this time. As the sparring match continued, he noticed that she seemed to slow down and it became easier to defend himself. After few more exchanges he realized what had happened. His mistress was not faster, the two weeks of being mollycoddled while his wounds healed had eroded his fighting abilities. With this awareness in mind, he switched to more aggressive tactics and started pushing and attempting to trip his mistress. He knew that she was stronger than he was, but also knew from firsthand experience that she weighed about as much he did. He was able to forestall his enviable defeat and drag this sparring session out far longer than ever before by disrupting her balance and traction. 

Both completely exhausted and covered in welts, he fell onto one knee. Looking up at his mistress he saw she was happy as she walked towards him. He got a little nervous as she grabbed him by his throat and spoke some new words that he did not understand. Instantly, he felt the temptation to rile his mistress one more time and he just could not resist it. Using her voice, he repeated the words he had just heard back to his mistress. He watched her mouth dropped open in shock and noticed her hand that that was on his throat was now raised and ready to administer a backhanded slap. He never saw the blow that knocked him to the ground, but did he feel the painfully pulsating outline of her hand on his cheek. As he rested on the ground, he assessed his injuries and found, despite the workout he had just put them through, no pain in them. He became satisfied that he had made a full recovery and thought about his mistress's reaction to the words he repeated. His best speculation that it must have been one of those rare phrases that is okay for a lady to speak to a gentleman, but not the other way around. Once he recovered enough, he returned to the cave just as his mistress was leaving for her nightly hunt. Something told him he was not going to be fed when she returned. 

He waited for her to disappear into the night before foraging some plant matter to dull the hunger pangs he was beginning to feel. Once finished tending to his personal needs, he returned to the cave and waited for his mistress to return. He rested for several hours until heard the entrance boulder moving. Once his mistress entered and resealed the cave's entrance, he noticed a carcass of a small ambush predator slung over her shoulder. He was surprised by this new development as his mistress usually dissected her kills for their meat and any trophies in the field. Even more surprising, was the fact she dumped the carcass practically in his face. Next, he watched his mistress by tear open apart its hide. Then, begin ripping handfuls chunks of raw meat from dead ambush predator's bones and swallowing them. He watched this brutal display of gluttony for several minutes and noticed whenever he glanced at the carcass his mistress was devouring her eyes would narrow disdainfully.

He thought about what he was observing. The ease at which his mistress was ghoulishly ripping the meat from carcass of the small ambush predator told him she was very worked up. Furthermore, the fact she was devouring her kill in front of him suggested to him that she was daring him to steal from her kill and based on the way his mistress continued to look him, he figured he was going to receive another beating tonight regardless of his actions. He looked at the carcass in front of him and saw that a hind leg was in his reach. Figuring that it was better get beaten for something he did rather than something he did not do, he reached for leg while his mistress was distracted by a large mouthful of meat. Once he got a grip on it, he twisted it until it popped out of its socket, and tore it free of the carcass. 

His mistress announced her reprisal with a scream. As he dodged her attacks, he quickly realized that she was focused on the leg in his hand and not himself. Several times his mistress was able to get one her hands on the hind leg, but he was able to wrench it from her grasp each time. Bit by bit, he noticed the skin on the hind leg was slowly peeled away. Knowing that his mistress would never stop trying to recover what he stole, he raised the now skinless leg to his mouth and bit. He continued to dodge and evade his mistress as he took additional bites. Eventually, his mistress was able to grab onto the leg. To his surprise, she did not pull the leg from him. Instead, she too started taking bites from it and, soon, he found himself in a bizarre eating contest with his mistress. He knew her carnivorous teeth gave her an advantage, but he also knew that he had a head start. Once the meat on the leg dwindled to the last bite, he suddenly froze.

Their lips were touching!


	26. Quadrants

He staggered backwards a few steps and touched his mouth as his mistress sensually and slowly bit the last morsel of meat off the leg bone that they were struggling over. Instantly, he understood that this situation was a trap to generate this precise result and he walked right into it. Any doubts concerning the third ambush predator that was following his mistress two weeks ago were also dispelled. Confused, he walked slowly over to his place in the cave and sat down to think. Behind him, he heard his mistress begin laughing at his stunned reaction. His suppressed his urge to snap at her and focused on thinking about what just happened. As he ran this night's and past events through his mind, an astonishing idea began to emerge.

The mean and competitive side of his mistress that was currently showing was not just about socialization and keeping one's skills sharp in this dangerous world. It also served a similar biological function as her affectionate side she displayed during the last two weeks. His mind reeled at the sudden awareness that his mistress, and her people, had not one, but two forms of romantic interaction. Just as he came to terms with that last thought, he next recalled the interactions between the strange folk he had observed while at the communal camp site and his own dealings with his mistress after she had emancipated him. His mind was blown a second time once he understood that there might be additional forms of special interactions among the strange folk and that these served to prevent chaos. 

He laid down and tried to sleep, but a third and even more ominous thought popped into his head. By engaging in these manipulations, his mistress proved that she desired him greatly. Not just in the familiar and passionate way that he understood, but also in an alien and hateful manner as well. Furthermore, she was willing to everything possible to escalate their relationship. He did his best to tune out his mistress's mocking laughter and closed his eyes. As he rested on the ground, he could think about was how she seemed to flip from one extreme to another. All this thinking proved to fruitless due to the lack of information he had to draw upon and he realized that the only solution to this problem was experimentation!

When he awoke, she was sitting beside him. A quick look at her eyes told him she was back to being nice. He already had a general idea of what his mistress liked and did not. What he did not know was the triggering point that made her flip into her hate mode. Since he had already proven he could rile his mistress by speaking like her. He decided to try other methods of getting her goat. His first attempt at achieving this goal was to hunt by himself during the day and to leave her in the cave alone. This, however, proved to be unproductive. Upon his returning to her cave, he noticed that this act of abandonment caused that heart wrenching look of rejection to reappear his mistress's face. It took a lot of hand holding and some cooking to get that forlorn look to go away. Once he was finished mending fences with his mistress, he realized he needed to change tactics. 

His second attempt at riling his mistress came after joining her on her next hunt. Working as a team, they made a few easy kills before returning. Once back in the cave, he got a fire going and began cooking his meal. Once he finished, he extinguish the cooking fire and went to his usual spot in the cave and started eating. In between bites, he watched at his mistress. At first, she alternated her gaze at the cooked meat in his hands and back to the dead cooking fire and back again. After a few seconds, he noticed that his mistress finally understood that he was not going to cook for her this night by the way her eyes narrowed at him briefly before she turned to get a cooking fire going.

Her reaction surprised him. The confused facial expression from before did not appear this time. He thought about it's sudden disappearance and speculated that whenever his mistress got that confused look on her face, she was reassessing what kind of relationship they were in. He took a few more bites of his meal and suddenly froze when another memory was recalled. It was when he scored his first hit his mistress's head during their first sparring match. He remembered that she did not get that confused look on her face back then too. Instead, her eyes narrowed hatefully. These memories made him suspect that his mistress had already formed a hate based relationship with him back then. Thinking back further, he noted that all of the rough treatment he suffered as her packbeast was a prelude of what was to come. He finished off his meal and thought more about when the look of confusion on her first face appeared. It was after he had restored her dislocated shoulder and hip that he recalled first seeing that facial expression. 

His head started to ache from all the deep thoughts he was having and decided to lie down. As he waited for sleep to take him, he heard his mistress finish "cooking". Next, he listened to her footsteps as she walked over to where he was and begin eating. He did bother to look at her, he could sense that she was still irritated by the way she grumbled as she devoured her poorly cooked meal. After his mistress was finished, he noted a lack of talking, just silence. However, his hopes for the first decent night's sleep in two weeks were dashed as his mistress started her nightly monologue session. He remained on the floor of the cave unmoving hoping that she would give up.

His mistress did not.

After a very long speech, he heard her sigh, then he felt her lie next to him and wrap her arms around him. At that moment, he realized he needed to rile her up further. As he thought new ways to aggravate his mistress, he felt a little guilty about testing the limits of her patience. However, he needed to know if her personality changes were a product of her people's unique romance system or some sort of mental illness she was suffering from. So far, the these changes appeared to be predictable to him. As sleep claimed him, he wondered what his mistress was thinking of him now and if she had similar thoughts about his mental stability. 

When he woke up, he was thirsty and the arms of his mistress were still around him. He managed to wriggle his way free of them without waking his mistress up. But, as soon as he moved the entrance boulder the sound produced by it rouse her. He attempted to communicate to his mistress that he was going to the dew pond above the cave by pretending to drink from his cupped hands and pointing upwards. After a few cycles of this short game of charades, he noticed that she seemed to understand. Upon exiting his mistress's cave, he noticed that the red sun was about to set. The lateness in the day alerted him to the trend that he was sleeping in later and later. He suspected that this was the result yet another subtle manipulation of his mistress. By keeping him awake with her talking, she was slowly forcing him to adopt her schedule. While, he did not like thought of being changed by either force or manipulation, he knew deep down that he had to. His survival depended on it. Finished with his thoughts, he made his way to the dew pond to slack his thirst and bask in the red sun's light for a bit before returning to his mistress's cave. 

When he reentered the cave, he saw there was no trace of rejection on his mistress's face this time. Once the red sun had set enough he followed his mistress on her hunt, ready to test her limits once again. He waited for her to make a kill before springing into action. Quickly, he processed the hide and butchered her kill which seemed to please her at first. Once the hunt was over however, he noticed her mood quickly soured when he refused to cook for her again. He was certain that his mistress would go crazy as he cooked and ate the meat that he took from her kill without giving any for her to eat. But, this night unfolded like the last. During his mistress's speech that night he could tell she was very unhappy with him based the tone of voice she was using and he felt like he was being scolded. He found it hard to continue this experiment due to his increasing guilty feelings he was having. When she finally finished her speech and yawned, he went to sleep. After a few minutes, he felt the arms of his mistress wrap around him as she joined him again. He frowned when he realized that he needed to try even harder to get her riled up. 

During next few nights and days all of his attempts at enraging her failed. In retribution, All his mistress did was give what appeared to him to be increasingly admonishing lectures as time passed. By the sixth day of his experiment, he did everything he could to provoke his mistress. Even when he used up the last of his mistress's firewood to cook his own meal that he took from her kills, all she did was give a stern and several hours long tongue-lashing in her people's language. As a desperate last ditch effort, he resorted to taunting her in her own voice. Only to be rewarded with a brief moment where his mistress looked at him through narrowed eyes. Understanding that he completely failed learn anything useful in this experiment, he finally gave up and went to sleep.

This time, he noticed that his mistress did not join him!

A pain in his ribs woke him and when he opened his eyes, the sparring club was right in front of him. Above him, he heard the menacing sound of his mistress slapping the blade of her sword against the palm of her hand repetitively. Knowing he had better get ready for another match with her, he grabbed the sparring club and got ready. Again, he discovered that his jacket and pouch of maroon powder where on the far side of the cave behind his mistress. As he wrestled with the entrance boulder, he wondered what was the trigger that cause his mistress flip back into her mean mode again. As far as he could recall, there was not a single moment that the look of confusion appeared on her face during the past week. Flummoxed, he stepped out of the cave and into the night air. Suspecting the worst, he got ready for a well deserved beating. 

His suspicions proved correct as he felt his mistress unleashed a week's worth of suppressed aggravation upon his person all at once. The lack of formal declaration of hostility and the sheer amount of strength that she began the sparring match revealed to him the saint like patience that his mistress demonstrated during the past week. Not that this revelation was of any help to him now that he was locked in combat with her. Refocusing on the challenge at hand, he began going through his repertoire of tricks and tactics to make this sparring match something other than a total and humiliating defeat.

Having defeated her once, he no longer felt the urge to win. Instead, a calmness came over him as he traded blows with his mistress and he began noticing subtle details about the way his mistress was moving and defending herself. As he endured the painful slaps his mistress's sword against his head and body, there one opening in her defenses that kept drawing his attention. But, he kept hesitating to strike at this target because its location was the very center of his mistress's upper torso.

Eventually, his curiosity about how his mistress would react to being struck on this fatal location on her anatomy got the better of him and he capitalized on the next chance he got. He thrust the sparring club at her upper torso, evaded her attempts at parrying the attack, and scored a direct hit on his target. He knew that his strike was not powerful and the sparring club was blunt on its tip. But, if he had a spear or a knife instead he was certain that this attack would have been fatal. Based on how his mistress instantly stopped fighting and looked down at her upper torso in total disbelief, he suspected that she came to the same conclusion. After a few tense moments, the hairs on the back of his neck started stand when his mistress looked at him again through slits so small he could hardly see her eyes.

He pulled back the sparring club and got ready for his mistress's response. He studied her body language and recognized that she was drawing fully upon her people's unique gift. While wondering when she would begin her assault, he blinked. When his eyes opened a fraction of a second later, he saw that his mistress had become airborne and was now holding her sword above her head with both hands. Time seemed to slow to a crawl and his feet felt rooted to the ground. Grabbing the sparring club at both ends with his hands, he raised it to block the downward stroke of his mistress's sword. He heard cracking sound as he watched the sparring club first warp, then shatter.

Suddenly, stars filled his vision.

When he became aware of his surroundings, he discovered that he was on one knee with bits of the sparring club strewn all around him and trickle of blood was running down from his scalp and into one of his eyes. He heard the mocking laughter of his mistress and attempted to look in her direction. The act of moving his head gave him a terrible headache and the world around him seemed to tilt to one side and back to the other. When he finally was able to focus on his mistress, he saw that she was smiling that special toothsome grin again and her eyes were still hateful slits.

Suddenly, the terrible thought entered his mind that his mistress, once again, had tricked him into taking their hate based relationship to the next level and, like a fool, he fell for it yet again. As he recovered from his mistress's last attack, he recalled their entire past together and all the events that escalated this alien romance. From him starting things by hitting the stylish, but serviceable hat on her head that he gave her, to biting her fingers to stop the force feedings of rotten meat, then the eating contest and finally this event. He became aware that all of these events were not accidents, but deliberate setups on her part. He became angrier the more he thought about this and he suspected that even this reaction he was having was exactly what his mistress wanted from him. Worst of all, he knew it was all his fault since the temptation to tease and spar with his mistress was too much to resist. Any hope that he had managed to put a stop to this caliginous alien seduction was now gone. Even worse, he understood that she was not going to give up so easily on their rivalry a second time. 

He closed his eyes and searched for the reason why his mistress changed from her affectionate side back to her mean side. One by one, times his actions caused the confused look to appear on his mistress's face replayed in his memory. As he examined each memory carefully, he had a flash of insight. His mistress and her people were single minded when it came to their relationships and the people they formed them with. Furthermore, in order to experience a different relationship with that same person, the strange folk had to first abandon their current one or set them aside for the duration. He took a deep breath when he finally understood why he was confusing his mistress so much. By fixing her limbs and performing the calming ritual on her, he was stepping out of one relationship and into another. With this new awareness, he understood why his attempts at aggravating her during the last week failed both to cause her confusion and to switch to the hateful relationship. Since the only difference between this week and last was that they had already rekindled their rivalry, he theorized that his mistress did not wish to experience those feelings with him until now.

The anger inside him diminished as he realized that his earlier speculation that the strange folk having multiple romantic systems was very close to the truth. Not just two for affection and hate, but third for being helpful and calming others. Thinking back to the communal camp again, he saw the interactions among the strange folk in a new light and could now make sense of their interactions. Just when he thought he finally had the big picture, he recalled the one strange folk acting as a peacemaker by standing between the two that were about to fight.

At that moment, he became aware that there was a fourth!


	27. Love

He took another deep breath and slowly let out and felt relived that his mistress was not crazy after all. All this time he spent thinking allowed the world to stop tilting randomly in various directions and he felt he could stand again. Slowly, he got back on his feet and looked at his mistress in the eyes. For moment they narrowed further, then she started laughing at him while pointing her sword at ground around him. Quickly, he understood that mistress was drawing attention to his lack of a weapon. Although his head throbbed and there was blood trickling into one of his eyes, he still felt like fighting. Frustrated, he looked at his bare hands and reflexively made fists with them.

At that moment, he understood he had not one, but two weapons left!

He knew it was a stupid idea from the moment he conceived it, but the fact he had just withstood his mistress's strongest attack compelled him to continue fighting. Returning his gaze back to his mistress, he spoke the strange folk's word for "fight" and carefully observed her bursting out with increased laughter. He quickly noticed that in her fit of mocking levity her eyes were completely closed and her own laughing was drowning out all the ambient nighttime noises around them. He repeated his previous vocalization several more times as he stealthily approached his mistress. Carefully watching her actions, he saw that she was too caught up in her own mirth to notice his deception. Once in range, he reached out with one hand and grabbed one of her hat skewering horns. 

With all the strength he could summon, he pulled his mistress off balance and then to the ground, placed a knee on her upper torso, put his right hand in front of her face, then made a fist with it. As he pulled it back to throw the first punch he saw a look of surprise appear on his mistress's face. He was able to get a dozen quick punches in before she began responding with her own fists. In the furious slugging match that ensued, he noticed how happy his mistress was, despite the fact he had tricked her into dropping her guard.

He knew from past experience that his mistress was thick headed and that his punches would be ineffective. But, he fought through the haze inducing pain and continued pummeling her face. In the exchange of punches, he felt the bleeding from his scalp increase from a trickle to small stream. Soon, his vision was obscured by his own blood. Despite this setback, he continued throwing punches at where he last remembered his mistress's face was and based on her screaming, he figured was right on target. After a few more punches, he felt his mistress grab his arm and bite! He screamed as he felt her sharp teeth sink into the meat of his arm. Acting on instinct, he tried pulling his arm free, but that only made his mistress bite harder. Realizing that his punches would not free his arm, he switched to his elbow. He pulled his body as far back as his mistress would allow, then he channeled all his body mass and strength through his elbow downwards to where he sensed his other arm was trapped by his mistress's mouth.

He felt something snap as his elbow collide with something hard. 

As he heard his mistress scream, he sensed his arm become free and through his blood soaked eyes, he could just barely make out her outline. He quickly stood up, and backed away from her. He listened to his mistress's screams and determined that she was more shocked than in pain. Knowing that her revenge was soon coming, he wiped the small stream that was running down his forehead with a hand and tried clearing the blood in his eyes with the other. Just as he had made some progress in restoring his vision, he had the wind was knocked out of him by a well placed kick. Now on the ground and gasping for breath, he knew this fight was now over. All except for a proper beating that his mistress started giving him.

Once she finished, he took time to assess his injuries. Overall, he felt that he was bruised from head to toe and his face felt like he had allowed a heavy weight boxer to use it for practice. Swollen lips, and possibly a bloody nose completed the list. Barely able to see, he reached to the top of his head and felt from where he was bleeding. A quick inspection reveled to him that this wound was still weeping blood and he understood that he was facing a potentially life-threatening situation.

Since his hair had only grown little bit since the incident with the dragon, he accepted the fact he had to find an alternative to help the bleeding wound on top of his head to clot. He crawled towards the area that they chopped wood, all the while ignoring his mistress's presence. Once there he searched the castoff pieces of tree bark from their wood chopping for some moss to use as compress. He still could feel his mistress's gaze on him as he peeled small portions of moss from the various sections of bark he found. Once he had enough, he combined and pressed the moss against the bleeding wound on his scalp. After a few quiet minutes, he heard mistress start to laugh again. As he felt her grab his leg, he wondered what she was going to next. 

Pain and the need to keep pressure on his head wound prevented him from making any real effort at preventing his mistress from dragging him, face down, into her cave. Based on the ease she performed this task, he became aware that something had gotten her worked up further. Once inside the cave he listened to her put the entrance boulder back into its place while giggling to herself. He blinked some more blood out of his eyes and what he saw unnerved him. His mistress's eyes were still the hateful slits he was familiar with, but when she smiled he noticed she was missing a tooth. Furthermore, the way she was smiling told him that she was planning something unpleasant and that she was looking forwards to it.

He did not like the possibilities his imagination conjured up and he began thinking of ways of escaping. Pushing himself to his limits, he managed to get on his feet again and take a single faltering step towards the entrance boulder before falling down. As he felt fresh blood began to trickle down his forehead, he understood that he was at the mercy of his mistress. He watched her disappear into the back chamber and reappear a few minutes later with her personal set of metal tools. On one hand, he was relieved that mistress was not planning to do something more intimate with him.

However, on the other hand, the various metal implements at her disposal meant only one thing, torture! 

Again, he struggled to get away only to be easily grappled in the exact manner as he did to her when he dislocated her arm and leg weeks ago. With his arms now pinned by his mistress's legs, his heart began to pound as he recalled his mistress not only had a strong sense of retaliatory recompense, but in her current mindset, a mean streak a mile wide as well. He looked for anything around him that might help and spotted his pouch of maroon powder nearby. He tried freeing one of his arms so that he could lunge for it, but any hope of escape evaporated when he saw his mistress pick up the pouch. Then, he watched as she looked at the pouch, back him, and slowly reached into the pouch. Instantly, he closed his eyes and held his breath.

He smelled the spicy aroma of the maroon powder on his mistress's fingers before the intense heat of it invaded his mouth. Her fingers entered his mouth and barely skimmed the surface of his teeth and gums. Despite the tolerance he had built up to it, the sheer amount of maroon powder on her fingers overwhelmed his sense of taste and smell. Quickly, the fiery heat of the powder set his mouth a blaze and began to climb into his sinuses as well. Next, he felt his mistress wipe his eyes with her maroon powder coated fingers and as a result, they too were burning and tearing up. Despite all the burning, coughing, and sneezes he chose to suffer silently. This quiet act of defiance generated a burst of giggles from his mistress. 

For several minutes he endured the burning sensations in his eyes, mouth, and nose confident that his current suffering was temporary. That soon changed when he felt his head become locked into place by his mistress wrapping one arm around his head. Then, with her other hand, he felt her investigating the bleeding wound on top of his head with her fingers. Instantly, he felt the wound starting to burn due to the trace amounts of maroon powder still present on his mistress's fingers. He gritted his teeth as she manipulated his injury in various ways in her examination of it causing grunts of pain to occasionally escape his lips. Once he was finally reduced to whimpering from the agony he was suffering, he felt his mistress release her grip on his head. He let out a sigh of relief as he hoped his penance was finished. Then, he noticed that his arms were still pinned to his body by the legs of his mistress.

Again, she locked locked his head in into place with one arm. Next, came a stabbing pain along the edge of the injury on the top of his head. He closed his eyes as he felt something being pushed through his skin and into the injury. Next, came a similar stabbing pain on the other side of the injury followed by the feeling of something being pulled through both sides of the wound. After a few more cycles of this torture, he felt a pulling sensation along the sides of wound on his scalp that cause it to close partially. Then, the piercing pain returned. After analyzing this pattern of pains and wound closing, he concluded that his mistress was stitching the bleeding injury on his head closed.

At first, he questioned why she was performing this much needed task for him. Then, he recalled how his mistress reacted when he tried to get her to stitch the injuries on his arm for him. Another stab into the scalp wound caused him to release another painful grunt which, in turn, generated another giggling fit from his mistress. Upon realizing that she was enjoying this activity and his painful responses, he knew she was still in her mean mode. As he endured the "torture" session he started hoping that his mistress would change back to her nice mode soon. Soon after, she finished stitching the wound on his head close and released him.

In too much pain to anything else, he crawled off to usual place in the cave to sleep.

When he awoke, he was relieved to see his mistress was no longer look at him through hateful slits. He stood up, stretched, felt the countless bruises on his face and body. Then, he felt warmness of in bite wounds on his arm and understood that infection was starting to set in. Sighing, he accepted what needed to be done and picked up his obsidian skinning knife. Slowly, he made his way over to the entrance boulder and peer through one of the many cracks around it. Since the red sun was a good distance above the horizon, he knew he had a few precious hours of daylight left. After communicating to his mistress with his hands that he was going to the dew pond, he painfully made his was past the entrance boulder. 

Once out of the cave, he searched for and found a few of the maroon plants and couple of flat stones. Next, he made his way up to the dew pond and sat down ext to it. As he did before, he diced the roots of the maroon plant with his knife and ground the plant matter into paste with the flat stones. This time, he took great care in cleaning his knife and hands so that no trace of the maroon plant's juices were left on them. Then, he began opening and cleaning out the bite wounds on his forearm. Compared to the first time he performed this painfully unpleasant task, the work went faster and with a lot less pain. Then, he started packing the open bite wounds with the maroon pulp. This time he allowed himself the privilege of cursing as the wound started burning.

Finally finished with that unpleasant task, he leaned over the dew pond to drink. As lips were about to touch the water, he saw his reflection. While it had not changed that much from the last time he saw himself, he saw on his scalp another wound that needed treatment. He sat up again and twisted his head to get a better look at his mistress's handy work. While the stitched injury on his scalp did not look infected, but he did recall trying to stop the flow of blood from it with some moss last night. Furthermore, he had the sneaking suspicion that his mistress did not bother to sterilize the needle she used or her own fingers for that matter. 

He made choice to not leave this wound to chance and started unraveling the knot the kept the stitches closed. It was long and difficult task due to the odd angle he had to hold his head in order to see it in his reflection of the dew pond and he was thankful that his hair was still short enough for him to see it clearly. Once the knot was done with, he placed his hands on both sides of his scalp injury and pulled. Bit by bit, he felt the wound open and tiny amount of blood began to drip from the reopened wound. Next, he cleansed the wound on the top of his head with handfuls of water. Then, came the part he was not looking towards. After carefully balancing a small amount of the ground pulp from the maroon plant on the blade of his skinning knife, he applied it to his scalp injury.

The searing pain caused him to utter several half remembered curse words.

Once he could function again, he closed the wound on his head by pulling the stitches closed again and secured it with a new knot. With his healthcare issues solved for the time being, he drank his fill and return to the cave. Once he stood before the entrance boulder, he turned, looked at the horizon and saw the red sun was about to set. He leaned against the entrance boulder and to bask in the final rays of light of the day. Soon, his mind started wandering and he began to think about his experiences on this world thus far. While he still had not come up with an idea of how to defeat the three strange folk in his prophetic dream yet, the fact that he managed to defeat his mistress once gave him hope. 

Behind him, he heard his mistress walk up to the other side of the entrance boulder. He reached backwards through one of the many cracks around the boulder and felt her grab his hand. Quickly his thoughts turned to her. He had to admit the truth that it was her harsh tutelage that allowed him to survive on this world. Furthermore, the more he got to know her the less her people's alien and complicated romantic system felt foreign to him. He continued to watch the red sun slowly slip past the horizon. Just as it vanished, he considered a thought that he had been avoiding thinking about for the past year. It dealt with very real possibility that there might be no way for him to ever return home and that he would spend the rest of his days here on this world. As he pondered this last thought, he gave the hand of his mistress a gentle squeeze and felt her respond in kind. After a few moments brooding, he decided if that was to be his fate, he would fine with that.

Just as long as he could spend them with his mistress.


	28. Something new

When it was dark enough for his mistress to go hunting, he followed her armed only with his spear. He noticed that she kept her pace even with his and as they came across trails she would wait while he finished reading them. After finding the trail of something that was big enough to feed both of them, he identified the beast by mimicking its vocalization. This act seemed to amuse his mistress did not seem to escape his attention. Once he started off the direction beast went, his mistress ran off ahead of him and by the time he caught up with her, she had already slayed and butchered the beast. He gathered what he could carry and started back to the cave. He made sure to cook and feed his mistress first and did his best not to look too bored as she talked. The tones she used that night were pleasant and he felt like he was being praised. Once his mistress was finished, he went to sleep and was soon joined by her.

The next several days repeated same routine. Occasionally while hunting, he would come across the tracks belonging to one of the giant beetles which had suitable body segments for a bow. Upon discovering one these trails, would stab the tracks with his spear in an attempt to communicate that he was going to hunt these creatures. His mistress made her opinions known by sticking out her tongue and pretending to gag. Still, he noticed that she never left his side on these side trips and never ran ahead and dispatch these plus sized vermin for him. By the end of the week, he had amassed enough of the beetles' body segments to create a new bow. He experimented using the spider silk thread he created as bow string material, but painfully discovered that these were prone to snapping apart due to the abrasive properties of the wood he made his arrow shafts from. These setbacks forced him to return to the plant fibers he was using before. 

With his new bow, hunting became a lot easier and after a particular successful hunt he returned with to the cave laden down with enough meat for a few days. After cooking for his mistress and eating, he listened to her nightly speech while creating a new batch of arrow shafts. Again, the tones she used were nice and respectful, but he did notice that she seemed conflicted. Furthermore, he found it strange when his mistress finished her talking session earlier than usual. But, he did not pay much attention to that fact due to feeling a little tired. After he lay himself down to rest, he quickly noted the lack of his mistress's presence beside him. He lifted his head just enough to get a peek at her. Although she was not looking directly at him, he saw that she had a grim expression on it and after a few minutes of thought, she walked over to the axe she used to cut firewood and then went outside. He listened to his mistress chopping for many minutes as he lingered on the threshold sleep.

All the while, he thought to himself what had gotten into her. These thoughts roused up him enough, to look over by cooking fire at their respective woodpiles. There, he noticed that his mistress's firewood pile was full! His only clue as to what was happening was the lack of his mistress by his side. After thinking for a few moments, he speculated that this his mistress had just switched to her mean side and was outside making a new sparring club. He relaxed and tried to get some sleep, despite the sound of wood being shaped outside the cave. He had a feeling that he would need it. 

A familiar pain in his ribs awaken him and, as he expected, in front of him as a new sparring club. He grabbed the new club as he stood and took a few swings to get a feel for it. To his surprise it was almost identical in all aspects to the previous one. Satisfied with his new weapon, he pushed his way past the entrance boulder and waited in the night air for his mistress to join him. However, when she finally made her way outside he quickly sensed something was off. Her eyes were not the familiar slits that he had known for so long. Furthermore, the way she announced her formal declaration of hostilities seemed halfhearted at best. Finally, The weak sauce attacks she made at him was all that he needed to know what the real problem was.

She was pretending to hate him.

He was mildly annoyed at first, but after thinking about the strange folk's romantic system some more, he recalled his personal behavior towards his mistress the past week. Besides grossing her out once or twice by hunting the giant verminous beetles for their body segments, he neither provoked nor aggravated her at any time this past week. Thus, he speculated, she did not have a reason to hate him now. Quickly, the answer to this problem came to him. In between his mistress's attacks, he began speaking in her voice. The first few words he spoke got her eyes to narrow hatefully. When he successfully spoke a few sentences from her latest speech, his mistress began screaming at him. Gradually, he felt the strength behind her attacks increasing as he kept up his aggravation tactics. Soon, he noticed that his mistress was gaining the upper hand in this match. Despite knowing that defeat was inevitable, he put forth his best efforts and he noticed that his struggles seemed to energize his mistress. Soon, he saw she was smiling that special grin of hers. Her reaction drove home the point that he needed to nurture both relationships he had with mistress. 

Once he was defeated, he began thinking of new ways to get her goat as he recovered. After reviewing all his interactions with his mistress, he decided that he needed to do something that she could not or would do. Something that did not involve testing her tolerance to the red sun as he did not want his mistress to get sunburned again. He slowly got back on feet and thought of various possibilities, but no real answers came to him. He pushed this idea into the back of mind and entered the cave.

Back inside, he saw that his mistress was not in the main chamber. However, the noises coming from the back chambers revealed her location to him. He sat down in his area and pulled out a large chunk obsidian from his collection of stuff. Using a rock, he started knocking small razor sharp flakes from the obsidian for arrow heads. He became so focused on this task that he almost failed to notice his mistress leaving to go out hunting. As he watched her leave, he recalled that they had not gone on competitive hunt together since the first time and perhaps that would be something his mistress would find interesting. He followed that line of thinking, but got stuck on what he could kill that his mistress would find difficult. Stymied again, he resumed his arrow head production. 

Once he had enough arrow heads for all the arrow shafts he previously made, he left the cave and made sure his mistress was not returning early. When he was sure that was the case, he carefully pulled out his supply of adhesive from the place he had been hiding it. The glue itself was not the reason he chose to hide it, rather it was the container he picked to store it in that was issue. After he pulled the hides wrapped the glue container, he took a few minutes to study the strange folk skull he had been using to store the adhesive he sweated from the giant spider web many weeks ago. This particular skull had a crack in it that had rendered it unfit as a water container. Since, the adhesive fluid thickened when it cooled, he reasoned that it would not leak through the crack in the skull. His inspection revealed that the skull did not just as he had hoped. However, all the adhesive that was exposed to the air had harden to the point that his body heat could no longer soften it.

He frowned at the lost of his glue supplies and just as he was toss the skull away, he felt something slosh inside it. Curious, he tried several methods to break the seal of rock hard adhesive in the skull to no avail. Then, he recalled that he had access to his mistress's tools back at her cave. While he knew he was taking some risks by bringing the strange folk skull into her cave, he also was sure that using her tools without her permission would certainly raise her ire. Another wicked smile crept onto his face as he briefly considered drinking from one of the skulls in his collection in front of his mistress just to see her reaction. 

Back in his mistress's cave, he picked up a large chunk of flaming wood from the cooking fire and began searching the back chamber. He recalled sensing that his mistress had made alterations to the wall with small figures on it and decided to investigate. At first he did not see anything new amongst the many grey skin figures, but once he located his mistress's figure he saw that she had added her new stylish, but serviceable hat to her figure at some point in the past. Then, a new grey skinned figure next to hers caught his eye. He studied this new figure for a few moments and noticed it had no horns on its head. Further examination revealed that in one hand the figure held a spear and in the other a bow. He thought about the identity of the person for a few minutes before he noticed that the eyes of his mistress's figure had been altered since the last time he had seen them. Before, they appeared to be looking out from the wall like most of the other figures. Now however, her figure's eyes were clearly looking at the new figure with affection.

At that moment, he understood that the new figure on the wall was his!

He turned from the wall of figures, both physically and mentally and he began searching the back chamber for what he originally came here for. He made a quick search through all the niches on the other wall of this chamber and did not find what he was looking for. With the piece of burning wood starting to dim, he walked across the middle of the back chamber and heard a metallic clink! Looking down, he was thankful that his mistress did not bother hiding her metal tools any further than dropping them in the middle of a pitch black chamber. 

After picking them up, he returned to the main chamber of the cave. He sat down in his usual place with the skull in his lap. One by one, he went through his mistress's tools carefully considering their usefulness in breaching the layer of hardened glue in the skull and the possibility of damaging them in his attempts to do so. In the end, he picked a small file to be his chisel and a conveniently nearby rock to be his hammer. The skull in his lap proved bothersome as it had no flat spots to brace it against the floor when he tried hammering his mistress's metal file through the harden layer of glue. Every strike on his mistress's file with the rock caused the skull to spin and shift its position like it was possessed by demons.

He was about to give up when inspiration struck. Holding his mistress's file pointed up wards with his feet, he then placed the skull with the rock hard layer of glue in it on top of it. Next, he raised the rock up above his head with both hands and brought it down with all the force he could muster. Upon hearing a loud cracking sound he knew the rock hard layer of glue had been finally breached. Quickly, he flipped the skull over to prevent the remaining glue from spilling out. 

He inspected his mistress's file for any signs of damage and clean the adhesive off from it. Then, he put it back with her other tools and picked them up. He only made a few steps down the corridor that lead to the back chamber before stopping. Suddenly, he became conscious of the fact that his mistress needed a reason to hate him for later and letting her find out that he used her tools without permission would provide her with that reason. With that goal in mind, he returned to the main chamber and left her tools by the cooking fire where he was certain she would see them. Then, he busied himself with attaching the obsidian arrowheads to the arrow shafts using the glue. When he finished with that task, he carefully wrapped in hides the skull that contained the leftover glue and hid it. His final task for the night was to string his bow with an experimental bowstring made from the spider silk threads he made. Having tried to use them before for this purpose, the new bowstring had a small bit of thin hide glued to the spot he drew arrows at for additional protection.

After a few hours, his mistress finally returned with the same grim expression on her face she left with and a particularly bloody chunk of meat on her shoulder. He watched as she walked over to the cooking fire and glared at the spot where had left her tools. When she turned around, he saw his mistress's facial expression remained the same grim countenance as before. Her eyes did not revert back to the kind ones like he had expected. Instead, they still remained hateful slits even after several minutes of intense glaring at him. The hairs on the back of his neck started to rise when he realized made a terrible miscalculation. 

His mistress was still in her hate based relationship with him!

His intuition told him to get out of the cave quickly and he obeyed it. After slipping past the boulder, he started to run to retrieve the sparring club. But, he was stopped by something grabbing his beast collar. He turned around as best he could and saw that it was his mistress who had a grip on his collar. He wondered what sort of punishment she was going to inflict on him since he was being prevented from arming himself. As he stood there thinking, he felt the other hand of his mistress feel around his beast collar until it found the metal leash attached to it. As the metal leash was slowly pulled out of his jacket, he sensed his mistress stepping away from him back into her cave. Still wondering what she was planning, he turned to face her. He watched as she disappeared into her cave and once the leash was fully played out, he watched his mistress drop the leash and roll the entrance boulder on top of it. Next, came a series of thumping noises around the boulder as the cracks around it started filling with rocks and wood, locking the entrance boulder in place. After a quick tug on his leash, he realized he was not going anywhere. He looked to the horizon and saw the dawn's color growing. At this moment, he understood what his punishment was going to be.

Off in the distance, he heard the first feeding calls of the red eyed scavengers.

This situation amazed him. Despite living in constant danger of these little red eyed devils for the past year, he now understood how completely complacent he had become to them. Feeling his heart start to pound, he reined in his emotions and took a good hard look at his surroundings. The mouth of his mistress's cave was rather narrow and he estimated that four or five of the red eyed scavengers could attack him at the same. More, if they could clamber over the backs of the ones on the ground. The thought of being bitten and chewed on by up to ten of the little blighters at once did not sit well with him and soon turned his thoughts towards offense.

With his bare hands he knew that the best he could do was snap the necks of the red eyed scavengers one at a time. He became aware of his need for a better weapon and began searching for any loose stones that would fit in the palm of his hands, or a stray piece of fire wood or anything that possessed a bit of mass to fight with. However, he was not able to find anything useful in limited search area afforded by his leash. Suddenly, this punishment by his mistress seemed more like execution to him. He brooded on why his mistress was doing this to him until he heard noises coming from the entrance boulder again. He turned and looked at the largest crack along the top of the entrance boulder and saw the hateful eyes of his mistress appear and disappear. Then, his bow was pushed through the same crack, followed by the arrows he made a few hours ago. Next, was his spear and stone axe. Finally, his pouch of maroon powder was tossed out.

Suddenly, this execution transformed into a test.


	29. The Final Test

His eyes followed a bloody trail that ran from the far trees to the entrance boulder and he quickly noticed that the color of the blood trail matched the bloody chunk of meat his mistress brought back to the cave. Instantly, he knew that she had, once again, intentionally set this latest challenge up and his misbehavior only helped her follow through with her plan. Next, he turned his thoughts towards the reason that his mistress testing him yet again, but it still eluded him. Previously he had thought that these escalating acts of cruelty on her part were behind him. But, as he thought more about the situation he was now in, he was starting to detect a certain degree of desperation in his mistress's actions. As if she was seeking something in him.

Another feeding call, closer than the last one, forced him to start thinking about how to survive long enough to find out what that something was. As he organized his weapons, he recalled everything he knew of red scavengers and imagined a pessimistic scenario in his mind. Because of the bloody trail that his mistress's created, he knew there was no hope that the scouts of the scavengers would bypass the cave as they sometimes did in the past. Once he was discovered, there would be a chorus of feeding calls. Then, scouts would next charge him in attempt to immobilize him by latching on to his legs with their little pit-bull like jaws. Additional scouts would continue to trickle in as he would fight them off and, eventually, he would begin to tire. After that, the swarm would be on him, ripping and tearing.

Until, the morning light would drive them off. 

He blinked as that last thought reverberated throughout his mind. The awareness that he did not need to defeat the entire scavenger swarm to survive this encounter allowed him to relax somewhat and to begin thinking of ways to delay the swarm's advance. He knew from past experience that the red eyed scavengers were both cannibalistic and prone to feeding frenzies. He reasoned that if he could create a large enough corpse pile, then that might generate the response needed to save his life. With the beginnings of a plan in his head, he realized what he needed next was a way to conserve his limited reserves of stamina as fighting the red eyed scavengers while they were latched on his arms and legs would quickly tire him. The solution to this problem appeared when he looked down at his pouch of maroon powder. Quickly, he rubbed the maroon powder on his arms, legs, boots, torso, and head while being careful not to blind himself with the maroon powder. Smiling grimly, he accepted the fact that he would be bitten countless times in this upcoming battle, but was confident that none of the scavengers would be able to maintain a bite on him. Satisfied with his defenses, he placed his stone axe and spear nearby and organized his arrows.

He picked up his bow and notched an arrow and prayed that the experimental spider silk bowstring he had previously strung his bow with would last longer than the previous ones did. Squinting as he looked along the bloody trail that lead to him, he noticed a dark shape with red glowing eyes following the bloody trail towards him. As he patiently waited for the first scout to come into range of his bow, he drew fully on his arrow. When the first scavenger of the night suddenly stopped and looked right at him, he released his grip on his arrow in his bow and watched it fly towards the red eyed scavenger. Struck by his arrow, the first scavenger fell without making a sound. 

He breathed a sigh of relief as he grabbed another arrow and placed it on the string of his bow. Far-off, he heard one feeding call and then another. Again, he waited for the second and third scavengers of the night to show up. When one investigated its fallen comrade, he swiftly killed it. However, before he could draw another arrow he heard the third scavenger scream out a feeding call. Quickly notching arrow, he silenced this noisy scavenger permanently. Soon after, he heard a chorus of feeding calls in the distance and knew that it was a matter a time before the main swarm would arrive. Grabbing a handful of arrows from the ground and putting all but one of them between his teeth, he notched another arrow and waited for more of the red eyed devils to arrive.

Out of the darkness, he saw four sets of red eyes bounding towards him. He shot one as it leaped over the two he had shot dead already and another as it came around the slowly growing corpse pile. Quickly pulling another arrow from his mouth, he killed a third scavenger at point blank range. However, the fourth cause him to grunt in pain as it sank its needle like teeth into his calf, only to release its bite a second later. As the scavenger suffered the effects of the maroon powder, he raised his boot up and brought it down on this red eyed scavenger with all his might. He felt bones breaking under the terrible downward force of his boot. When he took a step back and looked at the mangled corpse that he just created, he felt anger starting building inside him. With powerful kick, he sent the dead scavenger's body into the corpse pile. After reassessing his surroundings, he noticed the scavenger he shot at close range was nearby, but just out of his reach. Thinking quickly, he used his bow to pull the dead scavenger closer towards him, recovered the arrow from its corpse, and threw that lifeless body into the corpse pile as well. Then, he put a few more arrows between his teeth again and notched one in his bow. As he waited for the next wave of scavengers to come, he asked himself again the same question he asked before.

Why was his mistress subjecting him to this? 

The lack of an answer made his mood worse. Soon, another set of four scavengers came bounding towards him. He was able to shoot two of them near the corpse pile, but missed the third as it closed in on him. A half feral growl escaped his lips as he felt two mouths bite hard on both of his legs simultaneously and then quickly release their hold on him. His hands seemed to act of their own volition as they each grabbed an arrow from his mouth and stabbed them through the two scavengers and into the ground. After releasing the two arrows, he briefly watched the two scavengers try to escape their impalement before deciding to end their suffering by stomping both. After he recovered his two arrows from their bodies, he tossed the two corpses onto the pile just in time to see yet another four scavengers come charging towards him.

This time, he was only able to shoot one of these one dead as it leaped over the corpse pile. As he reached for his stone axe, he noticed that the three remaining scavengers showed no interest in the corpse pile as they continued their breakneck pace towards him. He quickly knocked the first scavenger to come near him to the ground with his bow and stepped on it while cleaving the other two with a single swing of his axe. With the two scavengers now defeated, he turned his back attention to the squirming red eyed devil under his boot and wondered why the scavengers where ignoring the feast he had laid out for them. At that moment, the red eyed devil under his boot freed itself and bit his boot in retribution. A sharp pain in his foot drew his attention to a series of puncture holes in his maroon powdered boot. The fluid that came up out of these holes revealed the answer to his previous question.

Blood. 

The sight of his own blood pushed him closer to his breaking point. With a yell, he chopped the head off of the scavenger that just bit his foot and kicked the headless body into the corpse pile. There, he watched it spasm and season the pile by spraying its blood over it. Quickly, he threw the divided pieces of the dead scavengers near him into to the pile as well. Then, he put down his axe, placed some arrows into his mouth, notched one in his bow, and waited.

Another group of scavengers soon made their presence known with a chorus of feeding calls before bounding up to the corpse pile. This time, he noticed that these scavengers stopped at the pile and began to sniff and lick the blood on it. One by one, he began picking off the members of this newest group with is bow. At first, he selected the scavengers who were least interested in the corpse pile to kill first, but as time went on, he switched to the ones who started feasting on the dead as they tended to stand still. For every mouthful that the scavengers took from the corpse pile, he added fresh body back to it. Wave after wave of the red eyed scavengers fell to this tactic and for a while he thought he might actually live long enough to see the red sun's dawn. That is, until he ran out of arrows. 

With his supply of arrows exhausted he put his bow down and picked up his spear and axe. Again, he thought about the reasons why his mistress placed him in this do or die situation. The lack of an answer frustrated him to point at which he screamed out. Instantly recalling the serious situation he was in, he quickly clamped his mouth shut. But, he could see it was already too late as a few of the closer scavengers stopped their meal and started looking in his direction. As the more inquisitive scavengers started walking towards him, he raised his spear and axe. He skewered the first to come within range and then abandoned his spear so that he could fight with both hands on his axe. The remaining scavengers charged him, but was able he made short work of them once they got in reach of his axe. Once finished them, he tossed their bloodied bodies to corpse pile.

He started made a game of his current situation. For every minute he could remain standing he reasoned that he would be saving a finger or toe. If he could make it to fifteen minutes without being dragged down, then he might save one of his eyes or nose. But, if he could stand for a full hour, he thought he might make it through this ordeal largely unscathed. Starting to feeling hopeful, he began shouting to the scavengers feasting on the corpse pile. Some would approach him and be swiftly dispatched. Only to be replaced by more of them coming out of the darkness. As time wore on, he became more and more confident and soon he started attracting larger numbers of scavengers to him. However, he soon discovered that fighting these larger packs were both time-consuming and tiring. Even worse, the sounds of dying scavengers began to attract other scavengers just as quickly as he could kill them. Eventually, he realized he was being slowly overwhelmed and looked towards the horizon for any sign that the dawn was about to arrive. Instead, what he saw caused any hopes he had to fade. 

All long the far tree line, he saw hundreds of paired red eyes.

Whatever his mistress killed, he now knew what she did with the rest of it. The sheer number of scavengers now approaching were nothing like he had ever seen before and he was only able to turn his sight from this living tidal wave of doom by the pain of four fresh bites on his legs. With each swing of his bloody stone axe at the scavengers in front him, he began questioning his own chances of survival. Once he dispatched the four that had just bitten him, he looked up again and saw the swarm converging on the corpse pile and the scavengers that were already feasting on the dead. The sounds of the swarm caused the remaining scavengers near him to turn around and join in the feasting. Soon, the supply of dead bodies waned and fighting broke out amongst the scavengers. Although this was his goal all along, the spectacle of seeing the swarm begin the process of devouring itself up close sicken him and he found himself cursing these creatures and their world. As more and more scavengers swarmed into the cannibalism fueled chaos, they swelled its borders towards him. Stupefied, he started stepping backwards away from the scavengers' free-for-all until his back was against the entrance boulder. 

 

He closed his eyes and recalled the few times he felt like he was a part of this world. However, watching the red eyed scavengers tearing their own apart from close range caused him to rebel against those feelings again. Soon, he began cursing his mistress for putting him in this situation and wondered, yet again, what was her motivation for doing this to him. The only reason that made sense was that this was her revenge for him crippling her. But, if that was the case, then it clearly crossed the line. As he focused on these thoughts, he heart began beating faster and faster and, soon, he discovered that he did not care any longer if lived or died. All that mattered to him now was that he put a stop to this once and for all. Becoming filled with a terrible resolve, he gripped his bloody stone axe tightly with both hands and strode into the maelstrom of red eyed scavengers as far as his leash allowed him to.

Then, he started swinging.

He did not bother to aim his attacks as each stroke of his axe struck multiple scavengers due to their sheer numbers. Furthermore, the pain from the bites he began suffering from only served to increase his anger. As it grew, the fatigue and exhaustion that he had previously felt gradually disappeared. Everything started to become blurry and tinted red as he continued his relentless assault upon the swarm and eventually he lost count the number of swings he made with his axe. As the furious battle went on, the only things he could discern was the impact of his axe on the scavengers, the furious beating of his own heart, and, amongst the dying shrieks of the red eyed scavengers, a horrible screaming. 

When he became aware of his surroundings again, he found himself surrounded by hundreds of dead scavengers. There was now a soreness in his throat caused him to cough in between each of his gasping breaths. He looked towards the horizon and saw the red sun had finally risen. Looking around, he noticed that he was a lot further way from the cave's entrance than he leash should have allowed. This observance made him wonder if he had managed to pull the leash free the entrance boulder during his fight or did his mistress release him. Curious, he turned around and found his metal leash on the ground behind him and at its end he saw his mistress, out of the cave and in the morning light. At first, he questioned why she was in the light risking another sunburn. Then, he realized that his mistress had watched his relentless slaughtering of the red eyed scavengers.

He looked at her eyes under her stylish, but serviceable hat, and was unable to determine if she was still in her hate mode with him or if she was trying to see him in the morning's light by squinting. His heart started to pound again as fresh anger began well up inside himself again as he reasoned that it did not matter since she had a lot to answer for. He decided to make this fact known to her by screaming at her, but discovered that the only sound he could make was a hoarse whisper. Stunned at the sudden loss of his own voice, he watched as his mistress walked slowly towards him. Once she was closer, he looked at her face and saw that she had returned to her nice side. This changed as she held up the last foot of the metal leash connected to the beast collar around his neck. After wrapping the end of the leash around both hands, he watched as she channeled enough hate to break the leash with the strength she summoned. Then, he observed his mistress returning to her nice side again. Then, he watched as she placed the metal leash in his hands and looked back at him expectantly. 

At that moment, a thought entered his mind as if it were typed by someone at a keyboard.


	30. Evaluation

It compelled him to recall, his grey skinned image on the wall of figures. After a few moments of thinking, he realized that his mistress now saw him was one of her people and she had noticed that he lacked her people's hate fueled gift of strength after all of the fights and sparring they did together. He opened his eyes and looked at the metal leash wrapped around his hands with the understanding that his mistress was expecting him to pull the leash apart just like she just did. Although he knew that he could not perform such a feat even if he was fully rested, he tried anyway. However, no matter how hard he tried he could not break his leash and eventually gave up. Looking at his mistress again, the sorrowful facial expression on her face spoke volumes to him.

He dropped the leash and fell to his knees as he succumbed to the delayed pain and exhaustion he accumulated from his battle with the scavengers. Upon hearing his mistress pull her sword from its sheath and walk around him, he suspected the worse was about to happen. He made no effort to defend or abscond. Instead, he wished her to be quick with her next action. After a few tense minutes, the sound of his mistress's sword quickly traveling through the air reached his ears. Only to be followed by a dying scavenger shriek. Next, he heard his mistress began speaking.

Curious, he slowly and painfully got back on his feet and watched was his mistress prodded a partially devoured scavenger corpse with the tip of her sword and spoke another word. Think back, he recalled that he last heard these particular words when his mistress "traded" with the fake goods peddler for the stew pot. This lead him to speculate that she was counting the scavengers he had slain, although her reason for doing so eluded him. For the next several minutes, he watched his mistress continue counting the dead scavengers and listened the words she used. When his mistress finally finished, she looked back at him.

He saw that she was now impressed and happy.

Perplexed at this reaction on her part, he began recalling brief flashes of his battle with the scavengers. As he relived the conflict a second time, he became aware of a terrible truth. That his mistress was indeed successful at awakening something inside him. It was not the hate fueled strength of her people. But something, in its own unique way, more monstrous. It seemed to burn inside him and was immune to fear, pain, and even fatigue. Even worse, it possessed neither pity nor self-control. Instead, it possessed a horrific single mindedness to overcome any obstacle in its path. Whatever it was, he realized that he had been using this gift, in small doses, ever since he came to this world and it was the sole reason he had managed to survive this long.

His ears detected his mistress approaching and as she came near, he felt her hand on his shoulder and he heard her speak her people's word for "come" in a nice tone. He wanted to obey her request, but he knew he had a few vital tasks left to perform. After making drinking gestures and pointing to above the cave, his mistress got his message and spoke the strange folk's word for "yes". Next, he staggered over to the tree line and search for some more of the maroon plants and a few suitable stones to pulp them with. Then, he painfully made his way to dew pond.

Once he had arrived there, he slowly peeled his blood soaked clothing off of himself. After inspecting his apparel, he came to the conclusion that he needed to create new set of attire as repairing the damage inflicted by the countless bites of the scavengers made would take longer than making a new set would. He took great care to wash as much of his and the scavenger's blood from his clothing without polluting the dew pond. After his clothes were handled, he washed himself and mashed the maroon plants. He bit his lower lip as he massaged the burning paste into the seemly infinite numbers of bites covering his body. When that painfully unpleasant task was finished, he waited for everything to stop burning. After dressing himself, the last task he finished at the dew pond before returning was to drink.

After slowly making his way back to the entrance of his mistress's cave, he saw the entrance boulder was no longer in its proper place. He did not pay much heed to this development and was thankful he did not need to wrestle with it in his current state. He entered and saw his mistress begin preparations for cooking. Tired, stiff, and sore he walked over to his usual spot in the cave and sat. From his vantage point on the ground, he watched his mistress get a roaring fire going and then started reaching for the large slab of meat she had brought back from her latest hunt. Knowing what she was about to do, he realized he had one final task left before resting.

Cooking.

He struggled to remain standing as he cooked. Whatever vital force that was keeping him animated, he sensed it was fading fast. Once he finished preparing his mistress's meal, he staggered over to his usual spot in the cave and collapsed with little grace onto ground. After he rolled onto his back, he saw his mistress was next to him, looking down at him while holding a generous portion of her meal out to him. He felt a strange and powerful hunger suddenly and he reached up and accepted the offering. Then, he crammed it into his mouth and devoured it like a wolf. With his final swallow, he rested on his side and turned his head to listen to his mistress's latest monologuing session.

He tried valiantly to be a courteous listener, but the need for sleep and a full stomach weighed heavily on his eyelids and bit by bit, his eyes slowly closed. Aware he was being rude again, he immediately forced them open again. However, what he saw made no sense. In the time it took for him to blink, his mistress managed to teleport to the other side of the cave and in her hands, he saw his jacket being repaired. He watched her handiwork for a few minutes and then yawned. Again, weariness forced his eyes closed again and when he opened them again, he saw that his mistress was nowhere to be seen and that night had fallen.

He tried standing, but found the task too demanding. Feeling weak, he examined the multitude of bites covering his legs and arms for signs of infection, but found none. He started wondering about what was causing this mysterious lethargy and suspected that the use of his gift taxed every reserve of energy he possessed and what he was feeling now was simply his body replenishing itself. However, with this understanding came the unpleasant revelation that his gift could draw so much on his limited reserves that he could be put into a situation that he would be completely helpless once his gift stopped working.

Or possibly die on the spot.

These thoughts did not sit well with him and he made he made himself as comfortable as possible. Then, he waited for sleep to claim him again. When he awoke again, he saw his mistress had returned from her nightly hunt and was about to throw another another large chunk of meat directly onto the cooking fire, yet again. He spoke her people's word for "stop" as he got on his feet and was happy that his voice had returned. Then, he slowly made his way over to his mistress to prevent another atrocity against perfectly good meat. As he divided the large chunk into smaller portions, he wondered why his mistress was unable to understand basic concepts that more heat and fire did not result in reduced cooking time or that smaller portions allowed for more even cooking. He finished cooking the meat and return to his spot in the cave with another generous offering from his mistress in hand. This time, he did not gobble the cooked meat down. Instead, he savored every bite. Furthermore, when it came time for his mistress's nightly talk session he was able to remain awake. But, as she continued to speak, he kept becoming increasing disturbed by something.

A cool breeze provided the clue he needed to find what was bothering him so. Looking for the source of the draft, he saw that entrance boulder was still not in its place and based on amount of color the horizon he could tell that both the dawn and the scavengers were soon to arrive. He forced himself up and walked over to the boulder and gripped it. As he strained against it, he heard his mistress repeatedly speak her people's word for "No". He relaxed and looked back at her confused. In response, his mistress giggled as she pointed at the entrance. He turned away from the entrance boulder, looked through entrance, became astonished at what he saw.

Feasting on the dead scavengers were hundreds of Beetles.

He tensely watched as the beetles slowly cleared the area in front of the cave of the dead scavengers all the while his ears straining to hear any feeding calls. Minutes slowly went by and the sun slowly rose as he nervously waited for the arrival of the red eyed devils. Once the red sun's light illuminated the cave's entrance, he finally relaxed. He looked at beetles feasting on the dead again and became amazed at the swiftness that void left by scavenger's disappearance was filled, but that feeling soon changed to dread. He stared at his hands in disbelief as he considered the possibility that he had not just put a stop to some of the scavengers, but all of them. Furthermore, he reasoned that if all red eyed scavengers in the region were truly gone, then other kinds of creatures would begin filling the void left by their absence.

Once he was accepted the fact that the scavengers were never again going a danger, he returned to his spot and continued to listen to his mistress. Her words still defied his attempts at deciphering them and soon his thoughts drifted from her current speaking session to back when she was counting the dead scavengers. He looked at his hands, made a fist with one, extended his index finger from it. Then, he showed this gesture to his mistress, spoke what he thought was the strange folk word for "one", and watched her response. The reaction of his mistress was a combination of relief and pride. This early success encouraged him to try speaking the word he thought was "two" and showing his mistress two digits. He noticed that her response to his educational efforts was to become even more enthused.

However, when he tried speaking the word for "three" with three digits extended his mistress frowned. He recognized that he had suffered a setback and close his eyes recalled, again, his mistress counting the dead scavengers for any clues. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open when he recalled there was a word she used before "three" that he could not quite make out. Based on that memory, he guessed that "three" really meant four. To test his theory, he extended a fourth finger and repeated the word for "three". He interpreted the sudden reappearance of a smile on his mistress's face as a yes.

He tried to recall what sounds made up the strange folk's word for three, but was unable remember them fully. Frustrated, he decided to try a different route. He showed his mistress three fingers with one hand while pointing to her mouth with his other hand. The confused look he received told him that she was not understanding. He tried again with the same hand gestures, but added pointing to his ear after pointing to his mistress's mouth again. While watching her reaction carefully, he saw her lips move as she softly spoke a word in her people's language. He again recalled her counting of the dead scavengers and compared this the word spoke with the one he could partial remember and discovered the two words sounded similar. With nothing more to go on, he spoke the word to his mistress while showing three fingers to her.

The new smile that appeared on her face told him he was correct.

By using his memory and this new method of getting his mistress to speak what he wanted and was able to figure out the strange folk's word for "five". However, he started detecting hints of annoyance from his mistress. By the time he sleuth out the meaning of "six", she was showing visible signs of irritation. He knew he was intruding upon her talking time, but he decided he was not going to let his mistress's ire keep him from educational benefits. Besides, he needed to get her goat so she would have reason to hate him when it came to spar with her again.

Undaunted by her slowly increasing hostility, he searched his memory for the sounds for the number seven. By the time he found them, his mistress had already resumed her monologue. He listened to her words and the tones she was using while he patiently waited for an opportunity to politely interrupt her. As her talking continued, he realized that she was not going to him give a chance to question her again. He was tempted just scream out the word he hoped was "seven", but he also understood that he had the perfect opportunity to slowly tease her.

He raised both of his fists and began slowly extending his fingers so his mistress could see them easily. With each finger, he could hear her anger rising in her voice. Once he had extended seven fingers from his hands, he began silently mouthing what he thought was the strange folk's word for the number seven. He watched as his mistress continued her speech as her eyes slowly narrowed into hateful slits. Eventually, she screamed out her people's word for "yes" and few other, what he suspected were unladylike, words as well. Pleased with both of his successes, he waited for his mistress to calm down and begin speaking in normal tones again.

Then, with a bit of a smirk, he raised his hands with eight of his fingers extended.


	31. A New Teaching Method

He managed to learn how to count to ten in the strange folk's language before his mistress started showing signs that she was about to become physically violent. Deciding that was enough learning for now, he spent the rest of her speaking session being a good listener. Finally, after she was finished talking, he went to sleep. When he woke up in the late afternoon, he felt well enough to explore the around the cave. As he got dressed, he noticed this his mistress was watching him getting ready to go outside. While he did not like lying to his mistress, his "I am going to the pond for a drink" mime routine was the only way he could think of communicating that he was going outside without her and that he would return soon. The alternatives, he reasoned, would be staying inside with his mistress until she left to go hunting or allowing her to get sunburned when she would try to accompany him outside. Once finished with dressing and having informed his mistress, he walked out of the cave.

Blinking in the afternoon sun, he made his way towards the tree line while trying to avoid the numerous small scavenger bones that were now scattered about in front of the cave's entrance. Ever other step he took generated a loud cracking noise that made him freeze and search for any possible inbound hostile beasts. Slowly, he succeeded in traversing the bone strewn area and slipped into the woods that hid his mistress's cave. After a quick search, he found a myriad of beast tracks proved his earlier prediction true. All kinds of fauna were now migrating into this region. He studied the tracks and noticed that, so far, only the smaller varieties of the beasts he and his mistress hunted were expanding into this region. But, he knew that this situation would only last a little while as, sooner or later, the larger beasts will come to this region.

Especially, the two legged ones.

His emotions about this development were mixed. On one hand, he was amazed at how quickly this world's ecology adjusted to changes. But, on the other, he felt responsible for the damage he caused and for the possible extinction of the red eyed scavengers. He suspected that larger beasts would probably be welcomed by his mistress, as she would not need to travel as far to find something suitable to hunt. However, he also thought that this region was about to become far more dangerous for him than it had been before. With that last thought in his mind, he noticed that he had failed to bring neither his spear or bow with him, just his obsidian skinning knife. At that moment, he quickly decided to return to his mistress's cave.

He spent the rest of day and evening manufacturing arrow shafts and obsidian flakes for their heads until his mistress left for nightly hunt. After she had left, he discovered how critically low his glue supplies had gotten when he began joining the arrow heads to their shafts. At first, he planned on traveling out to the funnel web dweller and stealing another wad of spider silk. But, he abandoned that plan as he realized that the trip there and back would take the better part of a day and that his mistress would surely come looking for him even at the risk of being badly burnt by the red sun of her world. He sat and brooded upon this problem and recalled when his mistress first appeared with the spider silk wrapped around her head, its quantity was less than what he "harvested" from the funnel web dweller. Suddenly, the solution to several of his problems just popped into head.

He would have a spider silk "harvesting" competition with his mistress!

The idea seemed foolproof in his mind. The next time she woke him with the toe of her boot, he would get ready as usual and leave the cave. Then, he would start traveling towards the lair of the funnel web dweller. He was certain that his mistress would follow him. Quickly, he shifted his thoughts on how to best stack the odds in his favor. The first and most important item he recognized that he needed was a reliable fire source to keep the funnel web dweller away from him. More so, it had to be something that would not lose precious fuel when exposed to his body heat. Since his supply of highly flammable glue was limited, he mentally reviewed all the other materials that were available to him for their fiery properties.

He knew from past experience that a piece of burning firewood taken from the cooking fire provided a weak and feeble flame that was prone to dying if he moved it around too quickly. He learned after a few experimental swings with several pieces of burning kindling held together that additional burning mass produced a more stable flame. From there, he experimented with several smaller and thinner pieces of firewood tied to a single, but larger piece of firewood. That arrangement created a larger and more reliable flame that threw off decent amount of light for several minutes, but only if he could get it to light in the first place.

To overcome this design flaw, he searched for dried plant matter in the area around his mistress's cave to provide his torches with some starter material. The result of his design efforts resembled a small ready-to-light-campfire on the end of large stick. Satisfied with his handiwork, he created a dozen of these new torches for further experimentation. But, soon discovered that while the torches he created were able to be lit from their dying brethren, but their ignition success rate was not the 100% he required for the upcoming contest between him and his mistress.

He thought about his options to get around this liability. Knowing that these new torches burned far longer than his previous one, he reasoned that instead waiting until his current torch became a smouldering ember, he could light a new torch the moment the preceding lit one showed any signs dying. At first he thought that line of reasoning was good overall, but quickly noticed a flaw. These new torches, once lit, tended to stay lit until they were fully consumed by their flame. While, he knew it was possible to extinguish these new torches with enough vigorous shaking, the possibility of his sweaty hand losing its grip and accidentally dropping a fire source in the middle of a forest wide fire hazard did not sit well with him. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he went back to square one with his plans and resumed his search for suitable materials. He went through his mental list several times before becoming frustrated. Stumped, he returned to his arrow crafting and retrieved his remaining supplies of glue.

As he was about to join the first arrowhead to its shaft, when inspiration struck.

He dipped the tip of his skinning knife into his supply of adhesive and walked over to the cooking fire. Once there, he slowly lowered his obsidian knife into the fire. The resulting burst of light nearly blinded him, but he was astonished that the glue still retained most of its flammability after all this time. Bolstered by the results of this little experiment, he quickly decided to sacrifice some his remaining supplies of glue as "starting fluid" for his new torches, but only after a proper test. He picked up two of his torches and added a small drizzle of highly flammable adhesive to another one. After lighting the unmodified torch, he brought the enhanced one with him as he walked down the dark corridor and into the back chamber.

With a more powerful light source he re-explored the back chamber. The wall of small figures caught his eye first. As he neared it, he caught a glimpse of all the tiny figures covering it. As he saw before, the vast majority of the figures had black crosses over their heads. But, Now aware of the strange folk's complex romantic system this wall became interesting to him a second time. After making a quick sweep of this wall, he saw hundreds of pairings and based on the way the two figures appeared to be looking at each other he was able to determine which form their relationship took. Lovers, Rivals, and a few examples of the helper relationship were all visible to him. Aster third look at the wall of small figures, he found a trio of figures where the center figure bore arms against two others who glared at each other menacingly. He realized that this collection of figures represented the fourth type of relationship he saw once at the communal camp, a broker keeping the peace between two would be rivals.

He took a few steps back to see the wall of small figures as a whole and, for the first time, noticed that the certain figures appeared multiple times on the wall in different relationships. At first, he thought that these particular pairings were just documenting relationships similar to the one he had with his mistress. However, upon closer examination, he noticed that not all of the strange folk were monogamous when it came to their rivalry and affectionate pairings. He thought about these apparent infidelities and his own experiences with his mistress. After some thought, he speculated that the strange folk did not view such relationships as infidelities since each figure appeared only once for each type of relationship.

The dying flame from his lit torch drew his attention away from the small figures and back to his original reason for being in the back room. Carefully, he brought the flame from the first torch to his second and prepared himself for the predicted blinding flash of light by turning his head away. Once, the sudden brightness in the room died down, he closely watched his second torch ignite. A smile appeared on his face as the glue served its function as a fire accelerant causing the torch blazed with flame.

He made a few test swings with the modified torch to see how much movement it could tolerate and discovered that it refused to die completely no matter how aggressively he whirled it about. Satisfied that his light issues were now solved, he spent the remaining amount of life his torch possessed to explore the back chambers thoroughly and discovered where his mistress kept her excess supplies of silk thread and hides. He did not take any of her materials for his own use, but made a point to move around them around just to mess with her head some more. Once his experimental torch finally died, he returned to the main chamber and created as many arrows and torches his supplies of glue allowed. Then, he rested until his mistress returned.

He was only able to get in an hour of shut eye in before waking to the sounds of his mistress getting ready to cook. He cooked for her and was given a yet another generous portion of her kill for his own meal. Then, he endured his mistress's hours long speech and went to sleep when she finally finished. When he woke, he felt well enough to hunt. He tended to his needs and killed time until the red sun had set far enough for his mistress to go hunting. After three days of rest and recovery, he could feel boredom taking it's toll on him. Once he saw his mistress head out of the cave, he quickly grabbed his spear, bow and arrows and chased after her. Not once on their hunting trip did his mistress speak to him. However, whenever he got a good look at her face he saw that she was happy. With his bow and arrows, he made three of his own kills on this trip and brought the meat and hides back to the cave. Although she made more kills than him on this hunting trip, he had to admit to himself it felt good to hunt again with his mistress.

Once back in the cave, he cooked the meat from his kills for his own needs plus enough to replace the meat she had given him during the three days it took him to recover. But, when he tried to give this extra cooked meat to his mistress the only response he received was his mistress speaking her people's word for "no". He read her facial expression to see if his mistress had changed to her mean side yet, but saw that was not the case. Confused, he held out his gift one more time and spoke the strange folk's word for "yours!". Her response was to push the gift back to him and speak a series words in her alien language, of which he only understood the words for "this" and "yours".

He backed off and sat in his usual spot and thought about what he was going to with four days worth of cooked meat and the stream words his mistress had just uttered. He did not get far in his thoughts before he heard his mistress call out to him. Looking up, he saw that she was over by the cooking fire with some meat. He got up expecting to do some cooking, but his mistress refused to move away when he neared the cooking fire. Her next actions were to point at the meat she held and speak her people's word for "mine" followed by pointing at him as she flailed the meat in her hand around above the fire. At first, he thought she had gone crazy. However, after watching her spin, flip and rotate the meat she was holding for a few minutes, he finally understood that his mistress was pretending to cook. To indicate this awareness to her, he spoke the strange folk's word for "yes" and waited. Then, he watched in amazement as his mistress tore a generous portion from the meat she held. Then, dangled it in front of him and spoke a word in her people's language.

He recalled that he had heard this word a few times before, but was unable to remember exactly when and where. He closed his eyes and repeated this familiar sounding word in his mind. The memory that came to him was of the time his mistress gave his birthday present to the merchant. Through the haze of this year old memory, he listened again to the barter session that occurred between mistress and the merchant. Of which, he could now understand the odd word or two the pair used back then. As he listened to their negotiations come to a close a second time, he heard, once more, the same word his mistress had just spoken to him coming from the merchant and then repeated by his mistress. The sudden exchange of goods that followed left little doubt in his mind what was the definition of this word was.

"Trade"

Suddenly, the idea that his mistress was trying to communicate to him became clear. The generous portions of meat of her kills that she gave to him were not loans, or gifts, but payments for cooking for her. Although he had four days of cooked meat and he was willing to cook for her for free, the way his mistress kept suggestively glancing at the fire and her uncooked meal convinced him to get the cooking fire going again. He smiled and spoke the strange folk word for "trade" and waved his hand over the fire. The excited response he received from his mistress told him that he was correct. After he finished cooking and received his payment, he walked over to his usual spot in the cave and waited for his mistress to begin her talking session. He started wondering what he was going to with five days worth of cooked meat until he noticed his mistress sat near him, finished her meal, and begin speaking.

However, soon after she started, his attention once again wavered and based on how his mistress started frowning as she spoke, he guessed that she noticed too. Without warning, his mistress started waving her hands around. At first, he thought she was furious with him and was about to launch an attack. But, as he listened to the tones she was using, he sensed that she was still monologing and that she was neither feeling angry nor resentment towards him. Curious, he watched as his mistress continued both speaking and waving her hands. This newest act by his mistress bewildered him and until she stretched arm out towards and pretended to grab something. Then, she brought her other hand to the first, pretended to pinch something, and slowly pulled the pinching hand towards herself.

At that moment, he instantly recognized what his mistress was pretending to hold was a bow and arrow.


	32. Renewed Competition

He sat rigid and paid careful attention to the movements of his mistress's hands. After she spoke a bit more, he saw her release her imaginary arrow and pretend to grab what appeared to him to be a knife. He wondered for a few moments at the next set of gestures his mistress started making as she continued to talk. As far he could tell, she was making a series of careful cuts. Then, she appeared to pull something from something else. Finally, his mistress began to hack at the pretend object with her imaginary knife.

He thought about what she was trying to communicate, but was unable to understand her actions. Curious, he pulled out his obsidian skinning knife and started going through the motions his mistress just demonstrated. As he did so, he noticed that she had stopped talking. To his surprise, the first set hand gestures matched the skinning technique she had taught him long ago and the second set matched the hand motions required for butchering a beast's carcass.

He put his skinning knife away and waited for his mistress to resume speaking. He now had a strong hunch what she was talking about this session. He resumed watching her hands move as she spoke since their movements were helpful in keeping his attention focused on her. After some more talking, he observed his mistress again pretend to grab an imaginary bow and arrow and fire it. He became convinced that she was telling a hunting story to him as she pretended to skin and butcher the second make believe creature she just killed. He found it nice for once to be able to understand what his mistress was talking about, but something was odd about this particular story.

He found it familiar somehow.

Again, he watched and listened as his mistress continued on with her tale. His suspicions were raised when she grabbed the imaginary bow and arrow for the third time. Then, they were confirmed when she again pretended to skin and butcher her imaginary kill. He now knew beyond any doubt that his mistress was talking the events of their latest hunt together. To prove this, he quickly turned from his mistress, rummaged through his collection of items, and pulled out the three hides he had acquired during their latest hunt together and studied her reaction. The pleased look that appeared on her face told him he was right. Suddenly, he suddenly felt regret. He had previously believed that these talking sessions were primarily for his mistress's benefit. Now however, he understood that she was trying to teach him all this time and why she got flustered whenever he interrupted her.

A new string of alien syllables from his mistress reached his ears and forced him to pay attention to her again. He listened to her words and watched her hands as she continued telling him the rest of last night's events. Once, he heard his mistress speak her people's word for "trade", he knew that she was now relating events that recently happened in the cave. Again, she waved her hand around as if she was cooking an imaginary chunk of meat on the fire. Then, she pointed at him and repeated the pretend cooking motions.

At that moment, he focused intensely on her every word while trying to single out the one for "cook".

One by one, he tried the various words his mistress just spoke while performing the cooking hand motions and based on her feedback, he eliminated the ones that caused her to frown. He finally saw his mistress smile when discovered the correct word by trial and error. Quickly, he picked a generous chunk of cooked meat from his five days supply and placed it into one of her hands. Before she could refuse, he spoke the strange folk's word for "trade". Then, he watched as his mistress smiled again and consumed her payment.

After the short meal break, he listened as she finished her story. Once she was done, he got up and looked out of the cave and noticed the red sun had risen. He stepped into its light and thought his mistress's newest teaching method and from where she got the idea to mime and gesture in addition to her words. Suddenly, the answer popped into his head. He was the one who taught his mistress to do so! Quickly, the previous feelings of regret melted away and became replaced by a sense of pride and hope. He basked in the red sun's light and these feelings for a few minutes before returning to the cave. Once inside, he saw that his mistress had already gone asleep. Feeling tired suddenly, he joined her.

Over the next few days, he continued hunting with his mistress. During these hunts, he intentionally performed actions which were not helpful, but were done so that he could learn the words for them once they returned to the cave. Exploiting his mistress's latest teaching method, he was able to learn the strange folk's words for "stab, shoot, throw, bow, arrow, spear" and "hunt". Furthermore, he started noticing when his mistress's narrative changed from describing his actions to hers and back again. As a result, he was able to figure out her people's word for "I" and "you". However, with all this new alien vocabulary came the feeling that he was forgetting the words he already new. To over this hurdle, he made it a habit to practice speaking all the words that he knew of the strange folk's language out loud. He quickly noticed that this activity caused his mistress to perform numerous face-palms, eye-rolls, and sometimes made her giggle.

After a particularly long and difficult story session, in which he constantly interrupted his mistress, he was awakened with an old, but familiar painful nudging to his ribs. He was not surprised at this development or the sight of a new sparring club when he first opened his eyes. In fact, he had been waiting for several days and nights this very moment to arrive. Quickly, he got ready and took his collection of torches, his stone axe, and spear. He stopped when the faint foul scent of several days worth of cooked meat starting to go bad hit him. Since he was going out tonight anyway, he decided to bring his spoiling food supplies with him. When he finally made his way out of the cave, he stopped and looked back to see that all that was left behind was only his mistress with an incredulous look on her face and the sparring club.

He smiled and spoke a single word in the strange folk's language, "hunt"

He knew that was not proper word to describe this competition, but he was reasonably sure that it would get his mistress to follow him. As he journeyed towards the funnel web dweller's lair, he could hear her following behind. Occasionally, he heard his mistress formally announce the start of hostilities, but he made the choice to ignore her. Soon after, he was feeling the stinging slaps of the flat side of her sword. Despite these provocations, he carried onwards to the spiderweb choked woods. As soon as they were in sight, he detected a change in his mistress's demeanor. She seemed to lose some of her confidence and she started traveling further behind the closer he came to his destination. Once he reached the edge of the web choked woods, he stopped and built a fire and gathered enough enough materials to create several more campfires before pressing onwards. As he stepped from the safety of the came fire, he looked back and noticed that his mistress refused to follow him any further, despite the hateful glaring she was giving him. He smirked and accepted this as small victory in their rivalry and took his first steps onto the strange webbing that seemed to coat every surface in these woods.

As before, the filaments covering the ground vibrated with every step. These vibrations cause him to wait until they cease and wait to make sure that nothing was coming his way in a hurry. As he ventured further, he looked at the canopy above him and noticed the webbing between the trees caught the light of the two moons and refracted it every direction. He found the effect overall beautiful, but deadly confusing. Only by looking back at his first campfire he was able to restore his bearings and continue his journey. Once he could barely see the first campfire he built, he cleared the filaments from the ground and created another camp fire. Taking care to prevent this campfire from setting the web choked trees around him on fire before traveling towards the lair of the funnel web dweller.

As before, when he found it difficult to see the last campfire he built, he built another, after clearing a spot for it first. The illumination provided by this new campfire was enough for him to see the funnel web's entrance he had been looking for. Quickly, he cleared a spot for yet another campfire in the mouth of the funnel web's entrance and, slowly and carefully, he brought the burning materials from the previous campfire to the new one he had just built. Satisfied that he would be safe for the next few hours, he unpacked his torches and prepared himself for what he was about to do.

A faint vibration in the webs around him interrupted his preparations. He grabbed his spear as he slowly turned towards their source. He had hoped the funnel web dweller was still in its lair, but this newest development made him question himself about continuing this competition with his mistress. As the source of the vibrations in the webs came closer, he decided that he would see things through. He waited near the campfire with his spear ready. As he peered into the strange moon lit web chocked woods and noticed a subtle disturbance. Instantly, he recognized that the size of it was too small for it to be the creature he was concerned about and he breathed a sigh relief when the source of disturbance finally revealed itself to him.

It was his mistress.

He noticed that the look on her face was a combination of contempt towards him and fear. Ignoring her, he organized his torches and got ready to make his way down into the funnel web. Since his new torches had several times the lifespan of his older versions, he chose to lighten his load by only carrying a few of them. With everything prepared, he got his mistress's attention and gave her a smirk. The resulting glare he received told him his antics so far were getting to her. He brought his first torch of the night to the campfire and closed eyes in preparation of its initial flare up. Suddenly, he heard his mistress screaming out in annoyance. When he opened his eyes, he saw that she was covering her eyes with one hand. Based on her reaction, he figured that his mistress caught an eyeful of his torch bursting into flame with her night adapted vision. Since there was nothing he could do for her at the moment, he got up and entered the funnel web at a jogging pace with his spear in one hand and his lit torch in the other.

Behind him, he heard his mistress scream out his moniker and several more of those unladylike words.

As he went deeper underground, he noticed the tunnel seemed to wider than the last time he was here. This difference caused him to stop and take a measurement with his spear. To his surprise, he discovered the passageway was indeed larger. He did not know what to make of this portent and continued his quick pace down the web lined tunnel. Once he entered the vast silk lined chamber, he saw that everything he saw from before had been rearranged and he sensed that the chamber itself was larger as well. As before, he saw there were creatures, some that he had never seen before, wrapped in silk cocoons and stuck at odd places and angles throughout the silk lined chamber.

He took his first few steps into the silken chamber and felt something brush against the side of his head. Instantly, he spun around and stabbed with his spear at the unknown assailant. He heard a loud crack which prompted him to leap backwards. From the ceiling dropped the spidery foe he remembered, except he could almost see through it. A few quick jabs revealed that what he attacked was just the molted outer shell of the funnel dweller. As he studied the empty enigmatic exoskeleton, he noticed that his first torch was starting to dim. He transferred the dying torch to his mouth and held it between his teeth like an oversized cigar as he retrieved one of his spare torches.

Just as he got a grip on another torch, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise!

Sensing something was approaching from behind, he whirled around again and stabbed. He felt his spear penetrate something and his ears detected an angry hiss. Thinking quickly, he closed his eyes and lit his new torch from the dying one in his mouth. With the ignition of his new torch, he also heard another hiss, followed scurrying towards the far side of the underground chamber. Once the brightness had faded and that he sensed that he was relatively safe for the moment, he extinguished his old torch. A trickle of cobalt blood dripping onto his hand drew his attention to the tip of his spear. The sight of the blood from funnel web dweller made him briefly wonder what his spidery foe would taste like, but he decided not to find out and brought his focus back to his real reason for being in this chamber.

There were too many cocoons for him to count and, based on the lack of movement when struck by the butt of his spear, only half of them seemed to contain only live creatures. He recalled the last time he was in this chamber and the troubles he had bringing out the dead strange folk he found here. That memory help him to decide to select the smaller cocoons since they would be easier to transport. With his targets firmly set, he found a dozen cocoons that were situated near the entrance of the underground silk chamber. He approached this cluster of small silk cocoons and noticed these still had living creatures inside them. His curiosity got the better him and he gave one of these squirming cocooned creatures a solid jab with the butt of his spear. The resulting muffled shriek told him exactly was inside the cocoons, scavengers.

Suddenly, The terrible feelings about being the one who single-handedly exterminated the red eyed scavengers assailed him again. He tried to rationalize his guilty feelings away by mentally reminding himself what happened between him and the scavengers was simply "survival of the fittest". But, even his best efforts were not enough to dislodge the shame he felt. After some additional thinking, he realized that he now had the perfect opportunity to right a wrong that he had committed. There was no debate in his mind, he had to give the scavengers their second chance.

Upon making his choice, he felt the same unwavering resolve from before filling him.


	33. The Hunt

He took a moment and thought how best to transport the cocooned scavengers out of this chamber, alive. A quick look at his spear gave him an idea to hang several of the cocooned scavengers from it. He reasoned even with the extra load the scavengers presented, making his way out of this silk lined chamber should be easy. With his plan set, he walked over to the nearest cocooned scavenger and placed the obsidian tip of his spear on the squirming cocoon. He studied the movements within the cocoon and gently applied pressure. The lack of shrieking and blood told him that he had avoided hitting the scavenger inside the silk cocoon. Once the tip of his spear had emerged from the other side of the cocoon, he pried it off the wall and hammered the skewered cocoon down further his spear by using the extinguished torch.

He repeated this process of carefully skewering the scavenger containing cocoons until he had four of them on his spear. Then, with his second torch starting to show signs of dying, he balanced his spear on his shoulder and began the trip back up to the surface to where he last saw his mistress. As he reached the entrance to funnel web, he was pleasantly surprised that his second torch lasted just long enough for him to emerge. He felt something glaring at him and trace this sensation to its source, his mistress. She was still by the campfire and he noticed that she never ceased glaring at him while he carefully shook the four cocoons from his spear.

Once his spear was freed from the last cocoon, he suddenly felt his mistress's hand on his wrist. He knew she was pretty worked up based on the ease at which she pulled his arm closer so she could have a better look at it. What his mistress was looking for escaped him until she touched the still wet cobalt blood on his hand. At that moment, he examined his mistress's face saw amongst large amounts of contempt for him, a look of surprise. Soon, that facial expression gave way to the hatred he was quite familiar with and she released her grip on his wrist. He watched amazed as his mistress began circling the campfire and occasionally screaming out in frustration.

At first, he did not know what to make of his mistress's actions or what he did to rile her so. He closed his eyes and tried to place himself in his mistress's boots. Based on how she was reacting, he could tell that she clearly knew that this was both a completion and she was losing. Furthermore, he noticed it was not the silk he had collected thus far. Instead, she was bothered by the cobalt blood of the funnel dweller. Looking at the strangely colored blood a second time caused him recall the strange folk word he used to start this contest.

"hunt"

Suddenly, the pieces of this puzzle came together in his mind and he realized that by using that word she now thought that the funnel dweller was the target of their competitive hunt for the night. Furthermore, he had scored first blood in their competition. Once he understood the reason for his mistress's frustration he began to feel a little uneasy. Having lived with her for over a year, he knew she was often unpredictable. Furthermore, he did not know what customs the strange folk followed when it came to these competitions. What he did know was that she would not accept defeat graciously and without the sparring club nearby, the thought of facing off against his mistress and her sword with only his spear was not something he looked forward to. Especially, in this place.

He waited for few minutes near the campfire and listened his mistress ranting and raving. As he waited, he tried to abandon the idea of rescuing the remaining scavengers, but that only caused the resolve in him to strengthen. There no doubt in his mind that he was going back into the underground silk lined chamber again. What he needed, he thought, was to find a way to calm his mistress down, or at the very least not to rile her up any further. With that idea in mind, he decided to let her have the next round with the funnel web dweller. He got his mistress's attention and pointed to the funnel web's entrance and spoke the strange folk's words for "Your fight go" and watched her reaction. At first, the eyes of his mistress remained the hateful slits he was familiar with, but he saw something else in them just before she shifted her gaze away from him.

Fear.

Seeing that emotion in her eyes, however brief, made him question why his mistress was afraid this particular creature. While, he knew that it preyed on the strange folk based on the escaped slave's corpse he found here before, but so did many other creatures of this world. Then, he recalled the night she returned with the wad of spider silk wrapped around her head and upper body, he remembered that the silk she had collected had leaves and small branches mixed with the mass of sticky filaments. He thought further on this observation and had the sudden realization that he had no possible way of knowing if his mistress harvested her supply of spider silk in the same manner as he did. Based on the fact the spider silk she had was wrapped around her upper body, made him suspect that she either blundered into it, or the funnel dweller managed to ambush her. The more he thought about how she behaved, her mannerisms, and the silk she "harvested" the more convinced that this was the case. That train of thought lead him to one conclusion, the funnel dweller was beyond his mistress's abilities to handle.

Now, he understood the true source of his mistress's frustration.

He knew he had eight more scavengers to rescue. At the same time, he knew his actions were seriously winding up his mistress. He felt stuck between finishing what he started, and sparing his mistress's feelings. In the end, the resolve growing inside him compelled him to pick up another pair of torches and light one. Again, a series of angry and unpleasant alien words were screamed out by his mistress. He waited for her to regain her sight before entering the funnel web. Once he had her attention, he tried to convey through his facial expression that he had to do this. The response he received from his mistress was opened mouth shock. Then, he charged into the funnel web's entrance for the second time this night. After a bit of a jog, the path he was running down on opened into the silk lined chamber.

He walked towards the remaining cocooned scavengers and stood still. As the light from his lit torch slowly dimmed, he listened to the funnel web dweller slowly approach. He hoped he could just light his auxiliary torch and drive his spidery foe off, as he needed to avoid getting it's blood on his body or his spear. As before, he placed the slowly dying torch between his teeth and got ready with is spear in one hand and his spare torch in his other. Then, he closed his eyes and waited. The sounds generated by the funnel web dweller's movements allowed him to measure the distance between him and it and the direction of its approach.

As his spidery foe came closer, he focused on the rhythm created by its movements for two possible changes: a sudden absence for a leap attack, or a sudden increase for a charge. Behind him, his ears picked up the rapid increase in his spidery foe's movements and the hairs on the back of his neck rose. At that moment he felt a faint vibration through the slightly sticky filaments covering every surface in the silken chamber, his fighting instincts screamed at him that this was the moment. He turned towards his spidery foe and lit his spare torch with the dying one in his teeth.

Even through his closed eyes, the flare up from his new torch nearly blinded him and based on the angry sounding hiss, he was certain that the funnel web dweller was impaired as well. However, when he opened his eyes, he saw his spidery foe had not retreated as he expected. Instead, it was covering its eyes with its smaller front-most legs and feeling the area in front it with its longer second pair of legs. He froze and watched in astonishment at the sudden change in tactics the funnel web dweller was displaying. Previously, he had thought it was just another unintelligent beast. But, as he watched his spidery foe continued to blindly search towards him, his suspicions were raised.

With some sense regret, he primed himself to make a powerful strike against the multi-legged creature coming closer to him. Once in range, he stabbed with all his might. He felt his spear easily penetrate the carapace of the funnel web dweller. But, instead of retreating, his spidery foe made another angry hiss and started pushing all its body weight against his spear in an attempt to get closer to him. Having personally been on the receiving end of this particular trick many times already, he knew exactly what to do. He shoved the butt of his spear into the floor of silk lined chamber and braced it with a foot. Then, he waited for the small side branches that he had left on his spear to halt the advance of funnel web dweller. Once impaled on his spear, his spidery foe resorted thrashing him with its forelegs. These blows had a bit of mass behind them and some strength as well and, soon, he was seeing stars with every blow to his head. Realizing he was being bludgeoned into submission, he shoved his freshly lit through the writhing mass of legs and mandibles and held it against the funnel web dweller's eyes.

His fiery assault caused his spidery foe to start retreating. As it backed way from him, he struggled keep his spear and, soon, felt his embedded weapon slipping from the grasp of his hand. Thinking quickly, he placed the freshly lit torch between his teeth next to the dying one and grabbed onto his spear with his newly freed hand. For a few minutes, an odd game of tug-o-war broke out as he tried to free his spear. Kicking, twisting, and even cursing all failed to failed his spear and, slowly, he was pulled, inch by inch, by the funnel web dweller as it gained traction advantage with its many legs. During this slow struggle, he watched how the body segments of funnel web dweller moved as it back away and where his spear was stuck in its anatomy. As best he could see, his spear had pierced a seam between two large segments of his spidery foe's carapace and now that it was moving backwards, he saw that these segments were against one another, closing the seam, and trapping his spear.

Suddenly, he saw this problem was similar to a Chinese finger trap and the solution to it became obvious.

To free his spear he needed to stop the funnel web dweller from walking backwards. He took a deep breath and leaped on to his spidery foe using his embedded spear as a pole to help his vault. Once on top of the funnel web dweller, he gripped his spear with both hands and wrapped and locked his legs around the fleshy narrow bridge that connected the abdomen and cephalothorax of his spidery foe's anatomy. Then, he proceeded to ride the funnel web dweller like a mechanical bull as it began to spasm and twist about like a demon possessed carnival ride. He watched the two body segments trapping his spear start to move apart. Once this seam between them was finally large enough, he and his spear were thrown free by the bucking funnel web dweller.

As he fell, he bit hard upon both of the lit torches in his teeth to prevent them from hitting the highly flammable floor. He landed on the slightly sticky floor of the silk lined chamber hard, but he was able to quickly peel himself off of it by using his spear as a staff. Once back on his feet, he looked for his spidery foe. He saw nothing except for a trail of cobalt blood. Feeling safe for the moment, he checked his body and weapon for any fresh cobalt blood and wiped it off so that he would not aggravate his mistress any further.

Then, he walked over to remaining cocooned scavengers, extinguished his nearly dead torch, and began the slow process of sliding them onto his spear. As he did so, his thoughts turned towards the funnel web dweller's change in behavior. He hoped it was a case of hunger overriding its fear of fire and not sign of intelligence. As he did not want to repeat the experience he had with the dragons ever again. With another four cocooned scavengers ready for transport, he made his way back to surface. As he emerged from the funnel web, he saw his mistress was still at campfire glaring at him as usual.

He tried avoiding drawing any more of her attention to himself, but just as he finished sliding the four cocooned scavengers off his spear he felt her hands on his head. Based on the ease his mistress made him look her, he was reminded how incredibly worked up she was. Now face to face, he watched her scan his visage. It was when she started taping the painful spots on his face where the funnel web dweller had bludgeoned him at that he realized that his mistress could tell that he had tangled with his spidery foe yet again. Suddenly, his mistress let go of his head and stepped back. Looking at her, he noticed that she was now studying him intensely. He did not like the look his mistress was giving him and he had a feeling that she was going to try something soon.

Realizing that it was just a matter of time before she put her plan into action, get picked up two more of his torches and lit one. As he charged down the silk lined corridor, he noticed that his mistress did not scream out this time. He did not bother to think about the significance of her lack of exclamations and instead focused on the surviving his next encounter with his spidery foe. If it was an intelligent creature, he knew had to be on his toes for any new tactics it might try. He prayed that was not the case as the tunnel he was following widened into the silk line chamber again.

He took a few steps into the chamber, closed his eyes, and listen. As before, he could hear the movements of funnel web dweller coming closer. He tried to sense the vibrations in the filaments that lined floor for its proximity, but this time, he sensed nothing. Accepting that the funnel dweller had the advantage, he made a risky move by intentionally walking towards the narrowest corner the silk lined chamber had to offer. As he approached it, he heard the noises of his spidery foe following him getting closer as the lit torch dimmed with every step he made. He tightly gripped his spear and walked into the corner and waited. Understanding that a confrontation was inevitable, he prepared himself by transferring the slowly dying torch to his mouth and holding its replacement in his other hand. Then, he turned around and took few steps out of the corner and searched for his spidery foe.

From above, he felt drops falling onto him.


	34. Trophies

Instantly, his every survival instinct activated.

He knelled and planted the butt of his spear against the ground while holding it so that its lethally sharp tip pointed upwards. Then, he looked up just in time to see a black multi-legged shape to fall from the ceiling. When it met his spear, he felt his spear briefly bend, but not break under the mass of his spidery foe. For a few brief moments, he noticed that the funnel web dweller was unmoving. However, he had a sneaking suspicion that his spidery foe was not dead and decided to use this chance to retrieve and light his spare torch.

Before he could ignite his second torch, he sensed the funnel web dweller stir back to life and its many legs wrapped around him. Then, he felt fresh webbing being sprayed on his foot. He knew he was trapped and he weighed his options as his heart began to pound. The first idea he came up with was to set the silken chamber on fire. He was reasonably sure he could escape the resulting conflagration with only severe burns. However, he did not like end result of that plan or its lack of guaranteed success and decided to look for anything that he could turn to his advantage. In the dim light cast by his dying torch he saw the funnel web baring its glistening fangs at him and from them dripped a strange fluid.

Recalling the funnel web dweller's anatomy he knew its eyes were just beyond its fangs. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in preparation of his counter attack. Then, he let go of his spear and grabbing the dying from his mouth. Next, he simultaneously stood up as best he could and thrust both the unlit and barely lit torches past the glistening fangs of his spidery foe. As he did so, he felt pain as one of the fangs managed to pierce both the hide sleeve of his jacket and the skin of his arm. With a final effort, he touched the two torches together right in front of the eyes of his spidery foe.

He sensed the sudden increase in brightness through his closed eyes and heard a loud hiss as he felt the legs of the funnel web dweller release him. He opened his eyes and saw his spidery foe rearing precariously backwards on its rearmost legs with his spear was still impaled into its underside. Seeing an opportunity, he slammed his shoulder into the funnel web dweller and pushed with everything he could muster. Slowly, he felt his spidery foe tip backwards and then fall upside-down with his spear still stuck in it.

He quickly placed the dying torch between his teeth and pulled out his skinning knife. With a few quick cuts, he freed his foot from the webbing and stood upright. He carefully studied the funnel web dweller and saw that it was clearly playing possum based on the functioning breathing orifices located on the underside of its abdomen. He started to put his skinning knife away, but sensed a troubling numbness creeping into it. He instantly suspected that he had been poisoned. Knowing what had to be done, he made a cut with his skinning knife on the wound where the fang of his spidery foe had pierced his arm. Then, he proceeded to suck the venom from the wound. After spitting out a few mouthfuls of blood, he wondered if he was performing this task properly.

He was answered when he felt the same numbness start to creep into his mouth.

He hoped was at least partially successful at purging the venom as he put away his skinning knife and put the dying torch back between his teeth. Next, he approached his upside-down foe and paid careful attention for any movement from the funnel web dweller. Slowly, he reached for his still embedded spear. But, at the faintest touch his fingers made upon his spear, he spied a faint tremor convulse throughout the body of the funnel web dweller. He made a few reflexive jabs with the freshly lit torch at the eyes of his spidery foe and discovered that his actions cowed the upside-down creature.

However, he soon noticed that every time he tried to recover his spear, the funnel web dweller again spasmed. After several cycles of this absurdity, he decided to try a different approach. Once more, he crouched and waved his freshly lit torch at the eyes of funnel web dweller to cow it. Then, in a single fluid motion, he snatched and yanked his spear from the body of his spidery foe and leaped away from it. As he did so, he was hit by a plume of cobalt fluid erupted from the wound recently vacated by his spear. He could feel the strange cobalt fluid running down his face and torso. When some of it slipped into his mouth around the now extinguished torch between his teeth, he got first taste of the funnel web dweller.

He gagged at its flavor.

Finished with his upside-down foe, he made his way towards the remaining cocooned scavengers and began loading them onto his spear. With each of the cocoons he slipped on to his spear, he glanced back at the funnel web dweller and noticed it was slowly righting itself. When he finished loading the fourth cocooned scavenger, he saw his spidery foe was slowly creeping towards him. He did not want to risk the funnel web dweller following him out of the chamber. Recalling to the two previous times he was able to leave this chamber with being followed, he put down his spear laden with its living silk wrapped cargo and grabbed his lit torch with both hands. With it, he chased the funnel web dweller back into the ceiling of the chamber. After that, he picked up his cocoon laden spear, he departed the silken chamber.

When he saw camp fire he had previously built and his mistress, he increased his pace and as he emerged from the funnel web, he let out loud shout. He smirked when he noticed that his dramatic exit managed to startle his mistress. Ignoring her hateful glare for the moment, he began sliding the cocooned scavengers from his spear onto the ground next the others. Behind him, he could hear his mistress approaching. He turned around saw a blend of hate and anguish on her face. He followed his mistress's eyes as she examined him and knew she was looking at the funnel dweller's blood on his face and body and the wound on his arm.

At that moment, he had a bad feeling his mistress was about to go crazy.

As her inspection continued, the torch he had been using finally burnt itself out. Seeing that its usefulness had come to an end, he tossed the expended tool into the camp fire. From the corner of his eye, he noticed his mistress's gaze followed the used up torch as it fell into its fiery demise. Suddenly, he observed a smile forming on his mistress's face. Based on the emotion she was expressing, he guessed that she had just discovered some great secret. Curious, he watched her as she helped herself to one of his spare torches and reach up with her other hand. Then, she took the stylish, but serviceable hat from her horns, placed it over her face, slowly bring the torch she was holding towards the fire.

He cursed as the torch's flare up blinded him temporarily.

As he rubbed his eyes, he heard his mistress running away. By the time he could see again, he caught a glimpse of the torch she held disappear through the funnel web entrance. At first he was happy that his mistress found an outlet for her pent up frustrations that did not involve him. However, as the seconds ticked by, he had a terrible realization that his mistress was charging into an incredible dangerous fire hazard with a lit torch. Suddenly, his mind started conjuring a seemingly infinite number of plausible scenarios that would result in the funnel web dweller's lair and its spider silk choked woods becoming an inferno. He suddenly became aware of the little amount of time he possessed and rushed over to the cocooned scavengers with his skinning knife drawn.

Convinced that a torrent of flame was now rushing upwards from underground, he worked quickly to free the cocooned scavengers. So quickly that he nicked a few with his skinning knife as he opened their cocoons. With the final cocoon cut open, he took a few steps back to watch the scavengers' "rebirth".

Only to become dismayed by their lack movement. He examined one of the scavengers, still in its cocoon, and noticed it appeared to be sleeping. At first, he thought this behavior was quite strange considering that he had thumped them with his spear to get them to shriek and then were transported quite roughly out of the funnel dweller's lair.

At that moment, he recalled the numbness that he had felt in his arm.

He flexed the muscles in his arm a few times and noticed that the numbness had diminished. In fact, the very act of working his arm seemed to make numbness recede faster. He thought some more about the funnel web dweller's venom and reasoned that physical activity might be the cure he was looking for. He grabbed a sleeping scavenger by the scruff of its neck with one hand and reached back with the empty palm of his other hand. The first slap he gave the scavenger caused it to shake its head briefly and let out a small shriek. The second caused it to open its eyes momentarily and produce a growl.

The third slap caused it to wake and its eyes to glow red!

He smiled as hurled the awakened scavenger as far away from the campfire as possible. Then, he watched it meander around drunkenly for a few moments before he grabbed another and repeated the awakening ceremony. As he roused another of the remaining scavengers, his ears failed to pick up any sound of his mistress or the roar an uncontrolled fire. This lack of sound bothered him, as he did not want to return to that silken chamber any time soon, even if it were a rescue. After few more scavengers were rudely awakened, he thought about the match up between the funnel web and his mistress and felt that she had very good odds of prevailing since she was an excellent huntress and she had one of his torches. He just hoped that his mistress would not slay the funnel web dweller.

Finished with his thoughts, he finished waking the remaining scavengers and watched them mill about sniffing one another, particularly the ones he accidentally nicked with his skinning knife in his haste to free them. Knowing full well what was about to happen, he searched the items he brought from his mistress's cave and found the spoiling meat he intended to throw away. He tossed these bad pieces of cooked meat to the scavengers and was pleased that scavengers were quick to find and devour his offerings.

As he was about to throw his last piece of cooked meat, he became aware of a presence behind him. He slowly turned around and was relieved that it was his mistress. On her hip, her sword was sheathed and on her shoulder, he noticed there was one of the larger legs of funnel web dweller. Quickly, he looked at her face to determine her emotional state. At first, he observed that she managed to have regained the confidence that she had appeared to lost. However, he watched her eyes go from the empty silk cocoons on the ground, to the scavengers feasting nearby, to the meat in his hand, and, finally, to him. Her eyes narrowed into slits as her face changed to silently convey only one unmistakable message.

"Are you crazy?"

He got ready for a fight upon seeing his mistress drop her trophy and pull her sword from its sheath. However, when she turned towards the scavengers, the resolute feelings within him were replaced by a burning sensation. He became fully aware of her intentions towards the scavengers and picked up for his spear. As his mistress started walking in the direction of scavengers, he thought about how he was going to stop her. He knew by using his spear against his mistress, he risked taking their rivalry to the next level. However, that possibility did not matter to him at this moment. What was important to him was preserving the result of all his hard work.

Suddenly, he found himself charging his mistress while screaming at the top of his lungs. As he did so, he noticed that he was barely aware of his own feet and that he felt like he was flying. Furthermore, he noticed that his mistress appeared to be slow in responding to him. Once her face had turned towards him, he saw her facial expression slowly morph from smug contempt to sheer horror. He lowered his head as he crashed into his mistress and sent her tumbling. Then, he leaped towards her before she could regain her footing with his spear pointed downwards. Then, he pinned his mistress to the ground by the pressing on the only fatal location he knew of her anatomy with the obsidian point of his spear.

Every time his mistress barely twitched, he added just a little more pressure to drive home his point. Eventually, he was able to force his mistress to accept this defeat. However, he could tell by her eyes that there would be hell to pay for this deed in the future. After several of the longest minutes of his life had passed, he heard the scavengers finish the feast he provided them and abscond into the web choked woods. Once they left, he felt the burning feeling inside him cease and the strange alteration in his perception of time end as well.

Then, he gently raised his spear from his mistress and walked backed to the campfire. As he packaged his spider silk for transport, he tried not to think about just happened. This, of course, had the exact opposite effect. He knew that his special gift had once again asserted itself and now he had deal with the aftermath without its "help". As he started the trip back to the cave, he noticed his mistress pick up her trophy and follow, always out of range of his spear.

During the long trek, he said nothing and she did likewise.


	35. Training

He entered his mistress's cave first and busied himself with storing the unprocessed spider silk. Behind him, he heard his mistress noisily cracking out her trophy and feeding on the meat inside it. He did his best to not to think about her plans for revenge and, instead, began thinking about methods of storing the adhesive he would be sweating from the spider silk. One idea he had was to stitch two large sections of hide together and store the glue in it just like a water-skin. However, as he continued to think about his storage issues, he heard his mistress stop her meal, stand up, and walk towards him.

Looking up at her, he saw she had her sword sheathed and the new sparring club in her hand. He watched as she dropped it near him and then pointed outside the cave. Knowing what she meant, he picked up the sparring club and preceded out of the cave thankful for an apparent return to normalcy. He walked a few paces out the cave and assessed himself for battle as his mistress, sword still sheathed, slowly joined him. He While he was still a bit beaten up due to his struggles with funnel web dweller, he felt good overall.

That soon changed the moment his mistress made her first attack. Her strike came without warning and from the sheath and he just barely managed to deflect her attack with the club. Stunned at her sudden change in tactics, he glanced at the sparring club in his hand and noticed a chip had been cut from it. He returned his focus to his mistress and while he waited for her next assault, he felt a drop slowly running down the side of his face. Without taking his eyes off his mistress, he wiped the wet drop with his offhand and raised it to his face so he could see what it was. The red smear on his hand confirmed his suspicions.

It was his blood.

He did not need to fight the angry feelings that usually rose up whenever his mistress made him bleed, for there were none this time. He knew he risked this result when he pinned her to the ground with his spear and it made sense to him for her to start using deadly force against him now. Accepting this new development, he breathed out a sigh and began his attack. As he swung, dodged, parried, and countered his mistress, he could feel numerous small cuts appearing all over his body. Each was a tiny reminder of where he failed to protect himself completely. As he fought, the sparring club in his hand was fairing worse than he was. Numerous chips had been taken from by his mistress's sword and the ground around him started to resemble the floor a carpenter's workshop. He was about to mount another attack when his mistress suddenly sheathed her sword and spoke one word in her people's language.

"Stop"

He froze in mid swing then slowly backed away. After reading her eyes, he sensed there was something not right with this sparring match. He remained still as his mistress became very thoughtful for a few moments. Next, she started to speak, but he was not able to understand the message that she was trying to convey. He could hear the frustration in his mistress's voice building as she repeated her words to him again. But, the language barrier, despite the many holes he had made in it, was still insurmountable.

After few more fruitless attempts at communicating, he heard his mistress sigh with defeat, only to let a gasp a few moments later. He cautiously watched as she put her sword into its sheath and approached him. Then, his mistress pointed at her eyes and tapped his chest repeatedly while saying only one word in her people's language, "here". He stood and stared at the spot and thought about what she was trying to communicate. Since she pointed at her eyes, he was fairly sure that she wanted him to show here something. But, what she wanted to see eluded him. He spent a few moments pondering what it could be. Suddenly, the answer popped into his mind.

She wanted him to show her his gift!

At first, he was unsure if he should honor her request as he had doubts if he could control the terrible power within himself. However, after reflecting on everything he knew of mistress, he became confident that she would be able to survive whatever his altered state of mind could throw at her. Furthermore, he reasonably sure his mistress would not kill him after the power inside him was spent. What finally pushed him into agreeing with her request was the small possibility she would be able to teach him, in her unique way, how to summon and control his gift. If that were possible, he realized, then he might just have found the key to defeating the Behemoth, the Merchant, and the Overseer. Feeling hopeful, he looked at his mistress and spoke one word in the strange folk's language, "yes".

Instantly, he saw his mistress assume a battle stance.

He closed his eyes and tried to will himself into the altered mental state he had experienced before, but failed. Undaunted, he recalled the events and circumstances surrounding each time his power manifested in the hopes that there was a different tactic he could use. After he finished, he noted that it only activated whenever he or someone he cared about was in danger, he became infuriated, or his goals being frustrated. Since this was only a sparring match with his mistress, he quickly ruled out using danger as a potential trigger. Next, he tried to focus on all the cruel acts his mistress perpetrated on him instead. But, even those memories failed to generate a response.

He was about to give up when an itch forced him to reach under the beast collar around his neck and scratch. Upon touching it, he reflected on his half forgotten goals to gain his freedom and to return home. Those thoughts soon made him begin thinking about the conditional emancipation his mistress convinced him to accept. As he focused on that particular compromise, he felt his heart begin to pound and he became aware that he was on to something. He dug deeper into his feelings concerning his enslavement and his life thus far on this world. Until, he began recalling those moments when he felt a chill inside himself. He realized that these chills coincided with the same moments when he lost or, even worse, surrendered portions of his humanity.

At that moment, he felt the burning sensation again and realized that he had just woken a long dormant pool of bitterness and other unresolved emotions. He tried to slam the mental doorway to these particular feelings, but it was too late. These terrible feelings seemed to have a will of their own as they first overwhelmed and then forced him to confront all the questionable deeds he had done. At this moment, he understood he was slowly transforming into something well deserving of the moniker his mistress gave him. With this revelation, he knew he was not only trapped physically on this world, but mentally as well. Soon, frustration starting to build inside himself as he attempted to resolve his conflicting goals of either returning home, or staying with his mistress while avoiding becoming nothing more than a violent savage in the process. Upon failing this task, he felt the frustration inside him change into something much worse.

He shivered as chills ran throughout his body and his teeth began to chatter. Even worse, he could feel his face begin to swell up and breathing became difficult suddenly. He reflexively raised his hands to his neck, only to find the beast collar there. The more he focused on it, the more he hated it and he began to twist and pull on it in attempt to remove it. However, The inward face spikes of the beast collar, long ago blunted by his mistress, prevented him from succeeding and painfully gouged his neck. Despite the pain, he refused to stop and started screaming as he continued his attempts at pulling the beast collar off. A short distance away he heard someone laughing at him. He immediately ceased his efforts at removing the beast collar and slowly looked at the source of the mocking sound.

His mistress.

Suddenly, the pain from his numerous small cuts on his body melted away and he charged her with the sparring club in his hand. Again, he noticed that he seemed to fly at her and he could barely feel his feet. As he swung at her repeatedly, his mistress appeared slow to react to his attacks with her parries with her sword and her dodging. He continued his frenzied assault and kept his mistress on the defensive. With each block and parry the sparring club he was using, he saw another chip of wood from fly off.

Eventually, the sparring club broke and he was left weaponless. He knew he was defeated, but the same compulsion from before forced him to keep on fighting. However, unlike the last time he fought bare handed his mistress did not drop her guard or turn her back. Instead, she used her greater reach with her sword to its full advantage and kept him at range by leaping away each time he tried to grab or punch her. He began leaping at his mistress, but received a fresh cut for each failure to punch or grab her. The only effect he noticed these wounds had on him was to intensify his resolve to catch her.

He soon lost track time as his vision melted into a sea of shifting red hues. When he was aware of his surroundings again, he was leaning against the entrance boulder panting and completely spent. On his back he could feel the red sun shining on him. Looked his body and saw numerous of small cuts all over it. Furthermore, his hands were completely raw and there were bloody hand prints all over the entrance boulder. A quick glance through a crack around the entrance boulder revealed that his mistress was safe and sound. He turned and placed his back against the entrance boulder and slowly slid painfully down against it. As the last traces of his peculiar gift left him, he felt all the energy drain from his body and all he could do was sit and wait for his mistress to open the cave for him.

As he rested, the missing portions of this match against his mistress slowly bubbled up out the exhaustion induced fog that clouded his mind. He was able to recall that she was very successful at keeping him at a distance during their duel and mocking him all the while, but at some point his mistress began absconding. This behavior perplexed him since she obviously had the upper hand. The only thought that made sense to him was that his mistress was more interested in his gift than taking his life.

The rest of his memories consisted of him chasing his mistress throughout the night and into the early morning hours. Once she had put enough distance between him and her, his mistress made a dash for her cave and entered. However, by the the time he reached the entrance, his mistress had already rolled and locked the entrance boulder into place. After that events became hazy again in his mind. As he looked at his raw and cut up hands a second time, he wondered how long he tried to force his way into his mistress's cave. The only clue he had was the position of the red sun high in the sky.

He waited for hours, but his mistress still refuse to let him him back in the cave. Eventually, hunger and thirst forced him to try standing again. His first attempt ended with him falling flat on his face. Behind him he heard more mocking laughter coming from inside his mistress's cave. After a few minutes of thinking about it, he tried again to stand. This time, he succeeded, despite the extreme lethargy he was suffering. Slowly, he moved one foot and then the other. After a few dozen steps, he became confident in his ability to walk again.

The first place he visited was the dew pond. Once near its edge, he fell to his knees and began drinking. With his thirst quenched, he took a moment to gaze on his own reflection. Not much had changed since the last time he had bothered. Except, for his hair growing back and a new hardness in his eyes. Once he finished, he returned to the entrance of his mistress's cave. But, it was still blocked. He knew he did not have the strength to budge the entrance boulder even if his mistress removed the pieces of wood that locked into place. Realizing that he had to wait until his mistress left for her nightly hunt, he decided to search the local flora for something to take the edge off the hunger he was suffering.

The red sun was touching the horizon by the time he returned to his mistress's cave. This time, he saw the entrance was unblocked and he shambled his way through it. Only to collapse on his usual spot. He heard his mistress giggling as she approached him. Dreading that she was still her mean mode, he hung his and waited. He could feel his mistress looking at him as she walked around him. He was too tired to speculate for what purpose. However, after a few minutes of examination, he felt his mistress nudging him the toe of her boot. He endured this treatment for several minutes until his temper got the better of him. He lunged at her from a sitting position.

Only to land on his face.


	36. The Savage versus the Gentleman

His mistress repeated this process several times and he fell for her gambit each time. Only when he was gasping for breath and nearing total black out did he finally understand what she was doing was stirring his emotions like the dying embers of a fire. With this awareness in mind, he just laid there on the floor of the cave, enduring her continuous prodding and drubbings. He found this task difficult and several times he came close to lashing out at his mistress again. However, the complete exhaustion he was suffering made the seemingly herculean task of ignoring his mistress possible and after what seemed to him were hours, she finally stopped. When his mistress finally left to go hunting, he crawled back to his usual spot in the cave and rested.

Unfortunately, his rest was constantly haunted by visions the violent savage that he foresaw himself becoming. For some reason, he found it far more terrible than anything else he had faced thus far on this world. He desperately wanted to avoid becoming that being and he searched for some way of doing so. After a long and thorough examination of his experiences on this world, he remembered one thing that might help. However, he knew was taking a huge risk by indulging in alien honey while at the same time he used his gift and sparred with his mistress. But, he also realized that he had no other options. With his mind finally made up, he finally fell asleep.

As before, he needed three days to fully recover. During that time, he cooked for his mistress and she resumed her nightly story telling sessions. However, he found following her narrative difficult, even with her hand gesturing, without the context provided by joining her on her hunt. During this period of recovery, he slipped away whenever he could to the alien bee colony and captured the few golden drops that dripped from their tree in a small hollowed out beast horn that he made. As he slowly filled it over the days and nights, he became concerned that his mistress might find it and confiscate it. To counter this potential threat, he tied a thin strip of hide around the alien honey filled horn began wearing it around his neck and concealed under his jacket. When the fourth night arrived, he was awakened by his mistress nudging him in the ribs. At first, he thought this was odd. Since, they sparred with her about every seven days or so. Not wanting to disappoint her, he sat up and looked around for the new sparring club.

To his surprise, there were two of them!

He picked the two sparring clubs and gave both a few test swings for their heft. He was impressed by their similarity to each other and to every club his mistress had made for him thus far. He briefly tried to wield a club in each hand, but after a few more test swings he noticed his mistress looking at him him with stern disapproval. At that moment, he reasoned that this second club was a replacement for the first when it would inevitably break and ceased his experimentation. Then, he walked out the cave and into the night with both clubs.

He tossed the second sparring club into the middle of the area they usually sparred in and waited for his mistress to come out of the cave. As he did so, he put the alien honey filled horn to his mouth and used his tongue to pull a large glob of it into his mouth. He quickly noticed that the taste of the alien honey was neither quite the same as when he sampled it fresh nor was its effects nearly as potent. Suddenly seeing a flaw in his plan, he quickly tipped the horn back and hastily cleaned it out as fast he could.

Then, he prayed for a miracle.

Behind him, he heard his mistress approaching. He quickly stuffed the now empty horn back under his jacket and turned around. When he did so, he saw his mistress walking right up to him. He nervously swallowed the last of the contents of his mouth as she neared him. Once they were face-to-face, his mistress again gestured that she wanted him to use his gift again. Then, she walked away a few dozen steps and look at him with anticipation. He refused at first and tried to avoid thinking about his true nature. However, his attempts at avoiding the grim truth only brought it to the forefront of his own mind and, once again, he was confronted with all of his own character flaws. His heart began to pound as, one by one, his less than honorable acts were exposed again.

Suddenly, both the awakening sensation of the alien honey and the internal burning feeling from his gift hit him at the same time.

He closed his eyes and tried the fight both the turbulent feelings inside him and the hallucinations brought on by his consumption of the alien honey. All he could hear was the fierce pounding of his own heart, and that strange buzzing static he heard the first time consumed the alien honey. As the seconds passed by, he heard the same voice in the static speaking to him again. What it told him was something that he did not want to hear.

"Stop fighting it, embrace it!"

He felt a tear run down a cheek as he considered surrendering to his base self. Then, a profound thought came to him. There was a possibility of him becoming a noble savage and as one he could still refine and better himself. Even learn to restrain this disturbing gift of his with enough time and effort. With this realization, he finally found the courage to do the only thing that still scared him. Before he did so, he made himself a promise that when his life was no longer in danger, he would dedicate the rest of his life to cultivating himself and hopefully, one day, become a true gentleman.

Then, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, he completely gave in to his primordial nature.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw everything through a faint red filter and he felt his hand gripping the sparring club tightly. The compulsion to fight was nearly unbearable as he searched for a suitable target to unleash the terrible energy inside him upon. Of which he could see only one, his mistress. As he focused on her, he noticed she got ready for a fight. Instead of flying at her with reckless abandon, he decided to try something new and temporarily contained the power within him for use later in this match.

Slowly, he advanced towards his mistress, guard up, making careful and measured steps. He noticed that the manner of his approach seemed to confused her and as he neared and she briefly let down her guard. However, once he got her into range of his club, he watched as the eyes of his mistress suddenly locked onto him and read his intent. Instantly, she raised her sword to provide some defense. With the terrible energy inside him begging for release, he began a series of strikes at his mistress. Again, as his wooden sparring was blocked and parried by her sword, chips from it were sent flying in all directions and littered the ground around them.

He continued his aggressive assault, while waiting for the perfect moment to fully release his gift upon his mistress. He continued to trade blows with her and occasionally threw in a surprised punch or kick whenever he saw an opening. As the battle wore on, he could see and hear his mistress becoming more and more frustrated with the way he was fighting. As he felt her strength increasing, he was unsure how much longer he could prevent his gift manifesting against his mistress. As the cuts he suffered from her sword increased in number, he fought through the pain and steadily accumulating fatigue to hold back the fell power inside himself just a little bit longer.

Suddenly, he saw his mistress raise her sword over her head with both her hands on her weapon's hilt. He began to sidestep her obvious attack while executing a parry, but was unprepared for the amount of her hate fueled strength she put behind her strike. Furthermore, he was unaware of how badly damaged the sparring club he was using had gotten during their match so far. The end result was another destroyed club and a near miss. He stood there looking at the numb of wood in his hand that was once his weapon for a few moments, while thinking of some way of redirecting the building urge to begin pummeling his mistress with his bare fists.

Then, he remembered the sparring second club nearby.

He threw the wood in his hand at his mistress and then jumped towards the second club. He grabbed it as he landed and as he rose to his feet, he made a blind swing with the club at where he suspected his mistress was. The sound of wood against metal told him he was at least half right. As he turned his body towards his mistress, he saw out of the corner of his eye that his mistress was now off balance.

He instantly recognized that this was the very moment he had been waiting for and released the terrible energy inside him. The feeling of relief came over him as the fatigue and pain he was suffering quickly melted away. Then, he noticed his heart, which had been beating rapidly, seemed to slow down. Fearing something was amiss, he tried opening his eyes. Instead of opening instantly, they responded in a much slower than usual manner. Once he got them fully open, he noticed the red tint was stronger than before and his mistress was still off balanced.

The urge to strike at her was irresistible and, this time, he did not hesitate. However, when he tried attacking her with the sparring club in his hands, his body responded drunkenly and the more he tried to correct his mistakes the worse things got. By the time he recovered and was ready to try attacking his mistress again, she had recovered her balance and was now looking at him with a degree of confusion. Based on what he was experiencing, he quickly realized that the altered perception of time that his gift often gave him had combined with the similar effects from the alien honey.

Now understanding that he was in a hallucinogenic induced slow motion fight, he did not take long to become fully aware of the limits of his body. No matter how had strongly he willed it, it would only move just so fast. However, as his mistress tapped into the hate fueled gift of her people, he perceived her movements were catching up to the speed of his motions. This development made him suspect that his mistress had been holding back her real fighting potential all this time.

He continued to trade blows with her while mindful of the fact his club was no match against her metal sword. Instead of straight blocking the edge of her weapon with his, he exploited the slow motion nature of this battle to practice and improve his technique of parrying her strikes. Soon, he was able to disrupt her defenses enough to get past them to make a few strikes. However, his early successes soon came to halt and his mistress suddenly developed the curious ability to predict where and when he would strike next. He knew from prior experiences that she did not have mental powers and suspected there had to be another explanation for this phenomenon.

He switched to full defensive tactics as he tried to figure out how his mistress was reading him. As the slow motion duel progressed, he started to observe the more subtle aspects of his mistress's fighting style that would have been difficult to sleuth out in years of fighting at normal speeds. He especially found how she kept her eyes moving fascinating. From his weapon arm, to his feet, up to his eyes, and back to his feet again her eyes traveled this circuit, rarely freezing on anything for more than a moment. He suddenly realized that she was not reading his mind, but his body and saw a big flaw in her strategy, his off hand! He did not know why she was ignoring it. The only reason that made sense to him was that she did not think a punch from him was a valid threat. He felt a smirk appear on his face when he realized that a hand could do more than just punch.

It could grab as well. 

Recalling how frustrated his mistress became as he punched and kicked her in the earlier in this match, he thought of a new trick to use against his mistress. He waited until she lunged towards him again. Then, he slapped her sword away with his club and closed the distance between them. Before his mistress could respond with another attack, he grabbed her sword arm by the wrist with his offhand and gave her weapon arm three solid blows with the sparring club in his primary hand. Suddenly, stars filled half his vision as his mistress responded with a surprise headbutt. As he staggered backwards, he watched his mistress attempt to shake the pain out her sword arm in slow motion. After a few tries, she stopped and looked at him with another one of her thin-eyed scowls.

The stars filling half his vision had just barely begun fade when his mistress resumed her assault. The increased power and control behind her attacks confirmed his earlier suspicion that his mistress had been holding back all this time. Even with the altered perception of time of the alien honey combined with his gift together, he soon found himself was completely outclassed by her. In fact, he could not but help notice that with each new cut his mistress gave him, the red tint effecting his vision became stronger.

To make matters worse, he could feel the effects of the alien honey starting to wear off.


	37. Triggers

Soon, his vision became completely obscured in a sea of redness. When it finally cleared, he found himself leaning against the bloody hand print covered entrance boulder with hands raw and aching again. Everything appeared to be similar as the last time he found himself in this situation. However, as he regained his memories from this most recent episode of lost time, he found it a little easier to put them back in chronological order. Furthermore, he found he could still stand, despite the fatigue he was feeling. Although the idea resting on the ground seemed to be a very tempting course of action for him to take at the moment.

He assessed his wounds and found that the multitude of cuts his mistress gave him were superficial just like the last time. However, in addition to the cuts, there were several bruises that he could not account for at first. This discovery prompted him to go through his regained memories a second time more thoroughly. In them, he finally unraveled the mystery of his missing time. She clearly dominated the duel with him, but as before, she did not kill him. Instead, he recalled being lead by her into the nearby woods where her leaping ability provided superior mobility than his frenzied charges.

He slowly shuffled his way over to the spot he recalled where his path through the woods began. Once there, he quickly found the trail of broken tree limbs and branches that he left in his passing. From there, his memories told him that his mistress was able to get far enough ahead of him to dash into the cave and locked the entrance boulder into place. He was not sure how long he spent trying to fruitlessly force his way back into the cave, but he figured he must have tried for a few hours based on the number of fresh bloody hand prints on the boulder and where the red sun was in the sky.

Looking through one of the cracks around the entrance boulder, he saw his mistress staring back at him. As he studied her facial features for more clues, he was unable to recognize what was her emotional state was until, her special toothy grin appeared. He then quickly recalled the slow motion portion of their recent match together and realized something significant.

He had forced his mistress had fought with everything she had.

While it was true he was completely outclassed by her, he accepted the dubious honor having experienced the full measure of his mistress's fighting ability. As he turned away from the entrance boulder, he felt a little proud of being treated as her equal. Even, if it were for a few fleeting moments. Feeling both thirsty and hungry suddenly, he made his very slow way up to the dew pond for a drink and then into the local brush for something to eat. Throughout the day, he tried his best to recall the fate of the second sparring club, but he was unsuccessful.

When he returned in the late afternoon, he found the entrance to his mistress's cave was unblocked. He cautiously entered and made his way to his spot in the cave. Only to be ambushed by his mistress as soon as he settled into his usual spot. Instantly, she began nudging, tapping, and drubbing him. He found it a little easier to resist the temptation to lash out at her this time and after a nearly an hour, she finally gave up and went out hunting. Finally, free from her torments, he rested. Again, he needed three days to fully recover, but he did notice that the strange lethargy his gift afflicted him with went away faster than the last time.

During the these three days of rest and recovery, he often replayed this last match through his mind to search for any additional insights. However, all he could come up with were his flaws both his fighting and character flaws. It was these character flaws that concerned him greatly since he had used them to manifest his gift twice. However, after having accepted his true nature, they no longer possessed the same emotional spark that his gift needed. In fact, he could now examine these flaws without feeling anything. This, he realized, was a big problem. He knew that he needed something new to help him manifest his gift so that his mistress would continue to help him develop it further. Otherwise, he knew she would take matters into her own very creative hands.

On the fourth night, he was awakened by a familiar, but painful nudging to his ribs. Before him, this time, were three clubs. Knowing what was expected of him, he picked himself up and the sparring clubs and left the cave. Then, he got ready for his mistress by dropping the two spare clubs on the ground and waited for her to approach him. As before, she made the same series of hand gestures from before that indicated she wanted to see his gift yet an again.

As his mistress walked away, his mind raced to find something that he could use to manifest his gift with. He started getting desperate when he saw his mistress turn around and get ready for another match. He cleared his mind and recalled the criteria for activating his gift. Again, he ruled out using danger a trigger since this was only a duel. His previous trigger concerning his descent into a complete savage had lost its effect on him just like the sight of his own blood used to. Thinking back to when he pinned his mistress to the ground with his spear, he remembered it was her interference with his personal goal of rescuing the scavengers that caused his gift to spontaneously manifest.

At that moment, the solution to this problem came to him.

The more he pondered it, the more perfect it seemed to him. First, it did not require the death of his mistress or himself. However, it was something that his mistress would do everything in her power to prevent from occurring. Furthermore, it was something he would not be ashamed of if he ever did manage to succeed. Best of all, he reasoned that it should be infinitely reusable as a trigger for his powers as well. When he ceased his contemplation, he stared at his mistress with a bit of a smirk.

Then, he made it his personal goal to defeat her in fair combat.

As focused his mind on this seemingly impossible goal, he felt his heart began to beat faster. Taking a deep breath, he began approaching his mistress in careful measured steps. The instant he entered her sword's reach was forced to dodge a blindingly quick strike from her. The faint trickle he felt running down his cheek revealed the slowness of his defense while the speed of her first attack told him she was expecting more of the last fight of him. But, without without the effects of the alien honey helping him this time, he knew this was going to be a one-sided match.

He carefully circled his mistress and made several more attempts to close the distance between him and her. Each time his mistress slashed at him, he was completely amazed at the speed she executed her attacks with and quickly realized that she was already fighting at her maximum potential. Faced with the insurmountable defenses of his mistress, he felt an unrelenting resolve building inside himself. First, he took stock of the two clubs on the ground and their relative positions to his mistress. Then, he recalled how fast his mistress seemed to move after the recent two week recovery he went through and understood that all he really needed was to get used to the speed his mistress was now moving. Hopefully, without getting getting getting cut to ribbons in the process.

Again, he began slowly circling his mistress again. This time, he raised his club to provide a defense against the most probable lines of attack that could be used by his mistress. Slowly, he cautiously spiraled closer to his mistress. Again, the moment he crept into range of her sword, she struck at him with incredible speed causing him to jump away from her again. The lack of pain or any faint feelings of droplets running down his skin indicated to him that this latest attack of hers was a near miss. However, the small chip of wood on the ground he saw out of the corner of his eye proved that his weapon arm had parried his mistress's blow seemly of its own volition. As he resumed his cautious spiral, he recalled that this was not the first time he had this happen to him and just as he was about to across the invisible line around his mistress yet again, another thought popped into his head.

"Trust yourself!"

He froze when that thought appeared in his head that which prompted an assault from his mistress. Again, he watched as her movements blurred. His ears picked up the sounds of three separate slashes interspersed with three collisions between wood and metal. He glanced down at his club and confirmed that it was missing three more small pieces of itself. Stunned at these successful blocks, he took a few steps backwards and triggered another volley of incredibly fast attacks from his mistress. Of which, his weapon arm seemed to know exactly where the sparring club needed to be to block and parry each of the barely visible attacks that came from his mistress.

Once her assault had come to a stop, he wondered how he was performing these impressive defensive feats. While he knew for any given stance his mistress might adopt, there were only handful of strikes that his mistress could make with her sword. Intuition, as he understood it, could only account for one or two of the successful blocks or parries. Since he had just fended off seven of his mistress's attacks in a row without one of them slipping past his defenses, he reasoned there had to be something more helping him. He was not sure what it was exactly, but he suspected it was one particular aspect of his unique gift. The one part that tended to spontaneously lash out whenever there was danger.

The same one that had been keeping alive on this world so far.

A frustrated scream coming from his mistress alerted him to another flurry of attacks coming his way. He recalled a saying from his world about the hand being quicker than the eye and decided to put the mysterious advice that popped into his mind to use. He raised of his slightly battered sparring to a defensive position between him and his mistress and just let it be. As he bobbed and weaved his body around her, he was only dimly aware of the sparring club in his hand. If it were not for the sounds of wood being chipped away by metal, he would not even acknowledged its existence.

This furious assault of his mistress continued for several minutes straight. When she finally backed off, he noticed she had broken a sweat. Despite the multitude of attacks his mistress attempted, few made it past his defensive efforts and those only made it through when he blinked at the wrong time or took his eyes off her. Although he could feel a felt drops running down his arm and leg, but neither the red tint that usually clouded his vision nor the inner burning sensation had not yet manifested yet. Instead, he felt calm. It was not calmness that came from a guaranteed victory, instead it was the strange calmness that often heralded a terrible storm.

He took one look at both his battered sparring club and at his mistress glaring at him, before deciding to go on the offensive. Again, he began circling his mistress and slowly spiraled closer to her. This time when she struck at him, he did not back off. As he continued to block and parry her blows, he continued to spiral closer, hoping to get his mistress in range of his weapon. With each orbit he made, he caught glimpses of the sparring club in hand slowly dwindling away from her relentless assaults.

Once he sensed that the sparring club was about to shatter from the abuse heaped upon it, he lunged closer to his mistress to get her in range of his club. No longer concerned with is defenses, he wanted to see what this gift would do for him in terms offense. With his thoughts focused aggressively he felt fresh pain as he was cut by one of his mistress's attacks. The new injury did not stop him. Just as he noticed an opening in her defenses that would allow a blow to her head, he felt the sparring club in his hand break. He quickly dove for one of the spare clubs on the ground while dropping the broken sparring club on the ground. When he regained his footing and was ready to resume his assault, he looked at his mistress.

Only to see that she had a look of surprise on her face and a hand on her cheek.

As the seconds ticked by, he noticed his mistress's olive green blood drip past her fingers and run down her hide clothing. Quickly, he looked at the two halves of the broken sparring club and saw that in the numerous attacks the club had absorbed, its surface had become a gnarled mess of nasty splinters and wooden hooks. A second look at the broken pieces of the first sparring club on the ground revealed a trace of olive green coloration on one of them. Returning his gaze back to his mistress, he could see her rage building. He needed several seconds for him to put the facts of what just happened together. It was his strike that his gift made against his mistress's head that broke his sparring club. This was the same strike that his gift performed, just before he sensed the opening in her defenses for it.

Suddenly, he had the awful feeling that he had managed to escalate things between him and his mistress once again.


	38. Between a Rock and a Hard Place

The superficial cuts his mistress had been giving him during their last few duels, while painful, clotted and healed quickly with a minimum of medical attention. However, if it was his mistress's intention to start to giving him deeper wounds, then he reasoned that they would require stitching and additional down time. It was for these reasons he desperately wanted to avoid any further escalations of his rivalry with his mistress.

He tried to read her emotional state as she continued to apply pressure on the wound on her cheek with one her hands. What he could make sense of did not make him feel hopeful. Rather than waiting for his mistress to seek recompense of her injury in her special and unique ways, he decided to take control of this situation by dramatically throwing the second sparring club to the ground and shouting the strange folk for, "No." Then, he watched his mistress slowly removed her hand from her wound and then examine it by using the blade of her sword as a mirror for a few moments.

The hairs on the back of his neck began to rise as she began walking towards him. As her special toothy smile slowly started to creep onto her face, he knew that it was not going to be easy to convince his mistress not to use this injury he just gave her as an excuse to escalate their rivalry further. He stood defiantly and tried not to imagine what her response would be. As so many times before, this action had the opposite effect of what he intended and, soon, his mind was flooded with the endless possibilities her revenge could take form.

The strange folk words for "Pick it up" spoken bewitchingly by his mistress caused him break out of his dark reverie. Looking at her again, he saw that she was pointing with her sword at the sparring club he had thrown down. Becoming resolute, he repeated his earlier refusal. Instead of backing off or becoming agitated, he noticed that his mistress seemed to be enjoying his attempt at asserting himself in this strange dark relationship. During the next few minutes he spent bickering with her over the dropped sparring club, he became aware of her toothy smile was growing.

Soon, he was feeling the tip of his mistress's sword against his body as their argument progressed. Still, he refused pick up the sparring club and kept control of the burning sensation that was slowly growing inside himself. Even, when his mistress began to force small trickles of his blood to run down his torso he remained steadfast and after countless repetitions of the strange folk's word for "No!", his mistress back off and turned around. He closed his eyes and let a sigh of relief escape his lips.

Followed by a sudden inhalation of pain as he felt something pierce his left shoulder.

Instantly, his eyes snapped open and the sight of the malevolent expression on his mistress's face cause the burning sensation inside him to double. As turned his eyes towards his newest injury, he kept reminding himself that to lose his self-control at this point was exactly what she wanted. His eyes followed his mistress's arm, to her sword's guard, along its blade, and into his shoulder. His heart began to pound once the realization that his mistress had just cheap shotted him. Soon, he noticed the unmistakable red tint starting to creeping around the edge of his vision.

Again, his ears heard the strange folk words for "Pick it up" playfully spoken by his mistress. After turning his gaze back towards her, he repeated his single word refusal. His eyes detected a tremor the sword arm of his mistress. Then, a sudden wave of pain in his shoulder confirmed his worst suspicions. Despite that his mistress was now resorting to torture to get him comply with her commands or the ever-building burning sensation within him, he found some grim satisfaction in defying his mistress. Every time his mistress reissued her command, he found the way her eyes seemed to flash and then narrow in response to his steadfast refusals somehow enchanting, even with the fresh pain she gave his shoulder with each additional twist of her sword.

Gradually, the increasing waves of pain in his shoulder caused his heart to pound so fiercely that he could no longer hear his mistress speak. In defiance of this development, he still possessed the wherewithal to repeat the word "NO!" in the strange folk's language whenever he saw her lips move. On and on, he resisted her demands until, the red tint afflicting his vision was close to the point of blinding him. He understood at that moment that he was on the verge of losing this contest of wills with his mistress.

He reminded himself of the stakes of this contest and searched for somehow to endure and win. He closed his eyes again recalled all the aspects of his gift and identified that there were two major parts of his gift. One part gave him the indomitable willpower to pursue his goals, while the other gave him the terrible energy to achieve them. Reflecting on all the previous times his gift manifested, he could clearly see, in retrospect, how the two halves of his gift interacted each other. Especially, how the unrelenting willpower served to guide the madness within himself whenever it finally overcame him.

At the very moment he felt his resistance begin to crumble under his mistress's constant twisting of her sword, another thought popped into his head. Instinctively, he knew it was a very dangerous idea even if he was not even sure if it could even work. But, when faced with certain defeat he decided to give it a shot. He took a deep breath and temporarily forgot all the promises and goals he had set for himself. Then, he focused all his will on a single goal, which was not to lose control of himself under these circumstances.

Thereby pitting one aspect of his gift against the other.

When he heard his racing heart begun to slow, he was hopeful that he had found some backdoor method of taking control of his gift. However, when he opened his eyes he saw the red tint was still there and just as strong as before. Furthermore, he felt incredible pain in the joints of his limbs. Unsure what was going on, he looked at his mistress. Then, after few seconds of watching his mistress talking in slow motion he realized that he was, again, suffering from the altered perception of time from before. Despite everything he was now experiencing, there was no sensation that he was losing control of himself. Instead, he had the feeling of being wide awake.

He felt incredible pain spread throughout his body as he felt everything swelling up inside himself. Soon, he felt the swelling creeping into his face and found it difficult to breathe. As he tried to bring his hands to his throat, he could feel his shoulders and elbows painfully responded stiffly as if they had suddenly rusted. At this moment, he had another epiphany. He now understood that his gift was a fundamental part of him and not some mental defect brought on by the stress of surviving on this world. Furthermore, the missing time and loss of control he experienced whenever his power manifested were mixed blessings. However, by twisting his gift against itself, he made the terrible mistake of placing his conscious mind in control of his gift.

This time, without any of the safeguards and fail-safes.

He closed his eyes and tried to relinquish control of himself and hopefully find some sort of off switch to his gift. Unfortunately, he remained in full control of the living nightmare he created for himself. Soon, he felt tears running from his eyes. He forced his hands through the pain that now seemed to be a part of every action and wiped his tears away. Upon reopening his eyes he noticed the red tint had lessen a bit. Looking at his hands, he saw that they were stained red. Looking up at his mistress, he saw her previous hateful glare had been replaced by look of pleasant surprise. When noticed that her sword had been stabbed into his shoulder a second time, he suddenly recalled how he came to be in this predicament.

With An eerie sense of calmness, he trapped the blade of her sword between the palms of his hands. Then, he pulled her sword's tip out of his shoulder while at the same time, noticing the lack effort his mistress was showing in preventing this from happening. Despite all the pain he was suffering, he felt no anger or compulsion to assault his mistress any further. Instead, he remained standing as his entire body throbbed with fresh pain with his every heartbeat and fresh tears continued ran his face. He locked his eyes on his mistress's eyes and noticed they were focused on the tears on his cheek. Wondering what was a miss, he caught one of the droplets with a finger and raised it up to see what was so captivating about it. To his shock the tear was red! Disbelieving the evidence before him, he caught another tear and yet another. They were all red.

He was crying tears of blood!

He could feel every vein and vessel straining inside himself as if they were about to burst and he had the sick feeling that he may have made a fatal mistake. In his agony, he stumble around and to his surprise these small movements brought short-lived moments of relief. Instantly, he realized that what he needed to do was to burn off all of this pent up energy inside him. However, he knew that if he were to strike at his mistress at this moment, then she would win this battle of wills and he would have to live with the ramifications of their escalated rivalry. He searched his pain wracked mind for another much needed option.

With bloody tears running down his face, he could barely hear his mistress approaching. He looked at her face and noticed the look she had from before had transformed into surprise and confusion. He recalled the very few times he observed his mistress cry and remembered that her tears possessed similar a coloration with the color of her own blood. Thinking more on this phenomenon, he recalled that he too had cried in the presence of his mistress on more than one occasion. But, never before had he produced tears with his blood color! From this, he speculated that his mistress was just confused and mystified as he was about his red tears. This uncertainty he sensed coming from his mistress's made him aware that he now had a narrow window of opportunity to turn this situation around. He raised a shaky hand and pointed at the entrance of his mistress's cave and tried to speak the strange folk words for "you go there!"

What came out of his mouth felt more like roar than proper speech, but the short-term relief he experienced afterwards was incredibly seductive.

He locked his gaze onto his mistress's eyes and slowly he felt a wicked smile appear one his face. Several agonizing minutes seemed to pass before he noticed a faint softening in her eyes. Then, his mistress slowly turned away and made a series of slow motion leaps into her cave. Followed by the entrance boulder being rolled back into place and a series of thumping noises that told him that his mistress was safely barricaded behind it. Through the one of cracks around the entrance boulder he could see her night adapted eyes watching him.

As tempting as he found the idea to exerting himself to the point of complete exhaustion against the now locked in place entrance boulder, he fought urge to do so and, instead, decided to begin running. He turned away from his mistress's cave and, without stopping to pick either of the two sparring clubs, he ran towards the nearest trees and dove into the brush. He did not care in which direction his feet took him as the relief he enjoyed burning off the pent up energies inside him was enough reward. However, he soon found that jogging was no longer enough and he was forced into racing into the night at a break pace just to experience the same level of relief.

His nighttime marathon took on a dreamlike quality due to his altered perception of time. The sweet rush of endorphins went straight to his head as he began as the sensation of flying at ground level came over him. Bit by bit, he sensed the painful swelling in his body was diminishing. As he continued running, he was dimly aware of how the surrounding terrain morphed and shifted from known landmarks to unknown ones as pushed himself beyond what he personally believed was his personal limits in terms of speed and endurance.

Eventually, the rush he felt from running faded.

Every time he stopped to catch his breath, he could feel the terrible energies inside him replenishing and building up to painful levels yet again. Several times he tried to run his reserves empty, but the result was always the same. Not knowing what to do about this predicament, he resumed running again. Until, he came across some tracks. He felt hunger once he identified the trail as belonging one of the edible yellow blooded lizard-like creatures. Suddenly, he recalled that he was weaponless and cursed himself. Despite this setback, he felt a strange compulsion to hunt due to the terrible energies building up within him again. Quickly, he searched the surrounding brush for a suitable branch. However, his initial search came up with nothing usable as a club or spear and as he continued his search, he felt his body beginning to swell up again. Soon, he was having trouble breathing again.

He raised his hands to his beast's collar in an attempt to help himself. As his fingers examined the collar, he rediscovered the metal leash still attached to it. He pulled the leash out of his jacket and wrapped it's length around both of his hands. While he knew a garrote was not an idea weapon to hunt game with, he recalled that the metal leash could hold any load he could put against it.

As he started following the trail, he prayed that this kill would put a stop to this living nightmare he had brought on himself.


	39. The Wild Hunt

As he followed the trail, he examined it for any information about the creature that made them. Based on the spacing between the individual tracks, he guessed that he was hunting a smaller specimen of the lizard-like creatures. Normally, he would not bother to hunt such small creature, but his growing hunger and all the pent-up energy inside him helped him make an exception this time. He followed the followed the trail slowly at first. However, As the pain and swelling had returned to his joints he quickened his pace. Soon, he was experiencing the dreamy flying feeling again.

Over hills, through gullies, and under trees he followed this trail while becoming increasingly single minded about this hunt. Time and distance seemed to lose any meaning to him as he charged along. Eventually, all that mattered to him was to find this one creature and slay it. After countless strides, he found his prey picking clean the leftovers of some other larger creature's kill. He pulled the metal leash attached to his collar taunt to prevent it from making any noise as he approached the small lizard like creature. He made no battle plans, or even bother to examine the direction of the night breeze. Instead, he charged right at his prey, threw a loop of his metal leash around its neck, and pulled as hard he could while placing all of his weight on the back of its neck.

Like most creatures of this world, he observed that this prey too went into a rage in its final moments.

After what seemed to him many minutes, he finally noticed that his prey finally stopped its frantic attempts at escaping and was now still. He made a few tests to make sure it was truly deceased before he relaxed and unwrapped his metal leash from the neck of his kill. Then, he took a few seconds to reassess his physical condition and noticed both the swelling and pain that came with it were greatly reduced, but were not completely gone. To make matters worse, he noticed the red tint was starting to return to his vision again. He frowned when he realized that this brutally quick hunt of this small lizard-like creature only temporarily relieved his issues. After thinking about this hunt further, he acknowledged that it was completely unfulfilling and speculated that he needed more challenging prey.

He started walking around the pile of bones that the small lizard-like creature was picking apart to see if he could pick up the trail of the creature that made the kill. However, after a few steps his stomach growled. He let out a groan as he contemplated the great efforts required to eat the small lizard-like creature he had killed. Since he had consumed many of them during his time as his mistress's pet, he knew just how well armored they were and how little edible meat was on them. It was for these reasons he eventually stopped hunting them and switched to their larger cousins.

In order to consume his kill, he knew he needed a sharp point and edge to open the small armored body. He searched his person for his obsidian skinning knife. But, quickly recalled he had left it back at his mistress's cave due to this night's sparring match with her. Quickly, he became aware that he needed to improvise a solution. Looking at the bone pile nearby, he noticed there were still teeth in the jawbones in the pile that were about the right size and shape. With these teeth and a few solid whacks with a stone, he was able to get to the edible flesh inside the small lizard-like creature's body.

As he swallowed, he felt one hunger go away and another grow.

As he resumed his search around to the bone pile, he felt both the swelling in his joints and the internal burning sensation within himself returning. Not wanting to relive the hellish experience of his body slowly tearing itself apart again, he focused all his attention on the ground around the bone pile to determine what made this kill originally. He did not need to take too much time to find the tracks of the culprit and with just one look at them he could tell it was a decent sized ambush predator! He stopped for a moment and briefly considered the suicidal plan of taking on one of those beasts with only a few feet of metal chain. Then, he considered the alternative of slowly dying a horrible death as his body tore itself apart from the inside. In the end, he decided that death by beast was preferable than the current predicament he was currently enduring. After a deep breath, he began his second hunt of the night.

As before, his initial careful pace was soon overridden by the need to burn off the excess energy building up inside him again. Running faster and faster, he re-experienced both the obsessive urge to follow the ambush predator's trail and strange dreamy sensation that he was flying as he traveled over the grasslands and forests. After what seemed a few hours of tracking at breakneck speeds, he started recognizing the local landmarks whenever he caught sight of them. Both this observance and the creature whose trail he was now perusing confirmed his earlier speculation about new beasts moving into the area around his mistress's cave now that red-eyed scavengers were no longer in control of it.

Eventually, the ambush predator's trail he was following ended at a large olive colored smear. He took a moment to catch his breath again. As he did so could feel his leg muscles weakening from all the running he had been doing this night. The lack of something dangerous to hunt combined with the weakness he felt and the ever-increasing terrible energy he sensed building inside himself made him become aware of the fact that he could not continue to run around all night. Sooner or later, he would have to stop. He thought hard as he regained his breath about his current predicament. However, he was unable to come up with any ideas on how to reverse his earlier foolish mistake. He solemnly looked at the large olive smear again and noticed, unlike the previous pile of bones, there was serious lack of remains for a kill based on the size of blood smear. Based on this observation, he concluded that something very hungry killed this particular ambush predator.

Or, carefully carried it off.

He examined the large olive smear and the ground around it for clues about what type of creature was responsible for this kill. At first, all he could find were crude gouges, side by side in the ground with a smaller pair of gouges about the same distance between his knee and foot. With this discovery he tried to figure out what manner of beast made this peculiar arrangement of markings in the ground. The only thing his mind could conjure up was a mutated red-eyed scavenger with gorilla like arms.

After shaking his head to dispel the absurd imaginary creature, he began circling the large olive smear making ever larger spirals in attempt to find either to find the mystery creature's approach or departure trail. After several orbits, he discovered a patch of grass that had obviously been trampled. Looking back at the large olive smear, he now saw additional clumps that had suffered similar fates that he previously missed. The hairs on his neck suddenly rose when he realized that there were only two kinds of creatures on this world that knew to silence the sound of their movements by walking on soft vegetation.

Him and the strange folk.

He resumed his spiraling search around the large olive smear and hoped to find additional clues that would deny his suspicions. He found two more, but these only confirmed what he already knew. The first clue was a trickle of olive colored blood leading away from the same large colored smear. He swiftly identified that this blood trail was a result of improperly bundled meat. However, this was something that he was quite familiar with and he began to hope that this large olive blood smear was a result of his mistress going out hunting after he ran off. After all, he reasoned, he had been gone for hours already and she would eventually become hungry. As he breathed a sigh of relief, he felt the hairs on the back his neck finally relax. He was about to return to his mistress's cave when his eyes found the second clue next to the blood trail.

It was a boot print in some soft ground.

Its shape was both irregular and unfamiliar. Furthermore, the stitching for it was so crude he could see the individual stitches in the track. He quickly compared his boot to this track and noticed his boot was a bit larger. He took a minute to think about this new discovery. No matter how hard he tried, he could not find some way to make this track belong to his mistress and once his pondering had finished, he was forced to accept the unpleasant truth. That this track belonged not to his mistress, but to another one of the strange folk.

He touched the trickle of blood in an attempt to determine how old it was. His best guess placed it at less than a half hour old. As he began his third hunt of this night, he had the feeling he was being watched. This feeling and the fresh swelling and pain in his joints quickly soured his already bad mood. His mood worsen when he realized that this blood trail was taking him closer to his mistress's cave.

He maintained a steady jog, despite the swelling and pain in his joints beginning to slowly spread into his limbs and face. He was well aware of incredible danger this unknown strange folk represented and the need for him keep the element of surprise. Thus, he decided not to go running at full sprint no matter how much his pain wracked body begged for relief. After what seemed an hour of this slow torture, he felt the night breeze blow towards him.

With it came the smell of a camp fire and cooking meat.

Based on this, he understood that he was very close to the stranger's camp. He abandoned the olive blood trail he had been following and started following his nose. As he stepped into the brush trees he again sensed that he was being watched. Ignoring that annoying feeling, he traveled through the undergrowth as quietly as possible. He only stopped whenever the fickle breeze blew the scent of his target's meal away from him. Eventually, he found the campfire he was tracking underneath a rocky overhang. In the dancing shadows created by the campfire, he could make out the silhouette of the unknown strange folk and the pile of hides it had accumulated.

As he watched this figure cook, he wondered what would be the best course of action for him to take. First, he considered just leaving this particular strange folk alone. However, after he recalled his initial encounter with his mistress, he understood that peaceful coexistence with this stranger was very unlikely. He quickly shifted his thoughts towards more permanent solutions to this problem. He knew he was about an hour away from his mistress's cave and it made sense to him to go there and bring his mistress and his bow back.

Then, his terrible mood forced him to consider the real possibility that this particular strange folk was just passing through. He speculated if this stranger got away while he retrieved his bow or his mistress, then surely word would get out about the recent change in local wildlife in this region and that would bring many more of the strange folk here putting himself and his mistress in jeopardy, he concluded.

From this line of reasoning, he delved into darker thoughts and started to imagining what his life on this world would be like if he ever lost his mistress. Not just images of enslavement appeared in his mind's eye, but scenes of great sorrow at her absence in his life. It were these images involving his mistress that helped him become aware just how deep his feelings ran for her. Upon recognizing these feelings, he began to feel powerful protective instincts towards his mistress. In that moment, he made a vow that that he would do anything for her. Even, give up his own life to save hers.

Or, take one.

He looked at the metal leash in his hands and understood what he needed to do. As he silently circled the unknown strange folk through the brush and undergrowth, he could feel his heart pounding and the red tint in his vision slowly intensifying. He sensed that the swelling and the pain in his limbs were still there, but they now seemed distant. He timed his every step to every bite the unknown strange folk took from its meal. Step-by-step, he silently traversed the distance between him and his target until he was standing directly behind the unknown strange folk.

He watched the stranger before him feasting for several minutes. As he did so, he noticed that he had the size advantage over this particular strange folk. Not that it matter too much, as he had learned the hard way from his mistress, the strange folk packed a lot of power into their bodies. Recalling that his mistress broke his leash with her bare hands, he silently made two loops with his metal leash. Looking at the horns on this strange folk's head, he recognized that his garrote was going to be a tight fit and that he was going to get one chance at using his weapon. Despite the pain he was in, he waited for the perfect moment. He watched the stranger strip the bone it was feeding on clean and then slowly reach into the campfire for another meat laden bone. His eyes suddenly focused on the flames of the stranger's camp fire and noticed they were dancing too slowly.

Suddenly, he realized that this was the moment to attack.


	40. To the Victor

Once again, he found his hands acting as if they possessed a will of their own. He slipped the double loops of his makeshift garrote past the horns and head of the unknown strange folk before him in a single swift and fluid motion. The instant he saw instant the metal loops of his leash fall on the shoulders of his foe, he pulled with everything had on both ends of his leash and pulled his foe into a near standing posture. He looked nervously at both ends of his makeshift garrote as he applied his strength to it. Since he used two loops in its creation, he was unable to properly wrap both ends of his metal leash around his fists. Instead, he was forced by the lack of available length to grip the remaining dozen or so precious links of his metal leash with the palm of right hand his hand and its fingers.

He silently prayed that they would be enough.

To his surprise, he watched the arms and hands of his foe reach out towards the ground and try to grab something. But after a few moments, he noticed the unknown strange folk target the double loops of metal leash and attempt to escape its suffocating embrace. He knew that his foe had the ability to summon more and more strength the longer this battle went on, so he searched is memories of all his conflicts with his mistress to find counter this powerful advantage. Quickly, solutions started to come to him.

The first idea was to deny his foe any surface to apply that hate fueled strength against. With this tactic in mind, he took deep breath as his victim continued to frantically to break the metal garrote around their neck. Then, he let that breath escape his lungs as a roar as he lifted his foe off the ground via the metal leash. Finally, he watched as his victim reacted to their sudden elevation by flailing about in desperation.

After a few seconds, he noticed that the unknown strange folk seemed to calm. However, after a few seconds slowly went by, he felt his foe resort to new tactics. First, came the hands of the unknown strange folk. They reached backwards and when they found the top his head, they searched the top of his skull before grabbing handfuls of his hair and pulling. The pain he suffered at having his hair pulled violently blocked any curiosity he had about what his foe was trying to find there. As the pain he suffered from this particular assault increased, the burning sensation built up further within him. Which in turn, cased him to pull even harder on the ends of his makeshift garrote.

Suddenly, the seeking hands of his foe soon retreated mysteriously.

Moments later, he grunted in pain as a powerful backwards kick from the unknown strange folk impacted on his right thigh, dangerously close to his groin region. He analyzed this new attack and quickly developed a counter for it. Since he was keenly aware that one lucky strike on his diaphragm or groin would take him out of this fight, he took proactive measures by turning his body sideways. In this position, he knew his ribs and hip would bear the burnt of the attacks from the unknown strange folk. After few more kicks, he found himself becoming increasingly frustrated at his foe's refusal to die. Soon, for every backward kick the unknown strange folk attempted, he began thrashing his foe by the neck. For nearly a full minute, he kept his foe off balance and suspended in the air. As his vision became obscured by the red tint again, he felt that victory was near.

Until, he felt his makeshift metal garrote loosen by a single link.

Before he could figure out what was happening, he felt a second link of his metal leash slip through his hands. He immediately focused on the neck of the unknown strange folk and noticed that, due to all thrashing, olive colored blood was now coating his makeshift garrote. Furthermore, his eyes saw that some of the fingers of his foe had managed get under the metal leash's double loops. His instinctual response to this development was to pull on the ends of his metal leash as hard as he could. However, this act caused a third link slip through the fingers of his right hand. Focusing on them, he saw that all this strenuous activity and thrashing his foe about had caused his right hand to start bleeding. Thus, lubricating the links of his metal leash with his own blood and allowing them to slip through the grasp of his right hand.

Seeing and feeling victory slowly slip through the blood soaked fingers of his right had caused him to bite the bloody end of his makeshift garrote in desperation. With the aid of his teeth, he no longer felt the links slipping. However, he was unable to recover the three metal links worth of distance he lost to the unknown strange folk. For a few moments he thought about his options, but was soon distracted by the feeling that his foe was slowly turning their head in the double loops formed by his metal leash. Gradually, he watched a hate filled eye appeared and looked back at him. Unlike his mistress's eyes, he noticed the pupil of his foe's eye was nearly solid grey. Suddenly, the hateful expression in this eye changed to one of surprise.

Somehow, the unknown strange folk clearly recognized him!

He resisted the temptation to ask himself the questions of how and when he crossed paths with this particular strange folk. Instead, he focused on how to defeat his foe since it was now obvious to him that his attempt at strangulating the unknown strange folk was a complete failure. He closed his eyes and thought about how he could end this stalemate. Two bits of information came to him quickly. The first, reminded him that no battle-plan survives first contact with the enemy. The second, reminded himself of the strange folk's impervious skulls. He was confused by these two different ideas at first, but after few moments of playing tug-o-war with his teeth, he realized that he still held the upper hand in this battle in terms of positioning and even stone-like heads of the strange folk could be used to break things on them.

Taking yet another deep breath, he released his bite on the end of his makeshift garrote and, with a yell, he lifted the unknown strange folk by his metal leash as far as he could. Feeling another two links of his metal leash slip through his bloodied right hand, he turned around and crossed his arms so that he could feel the back of his foe was against his back. Then, he summoned everything he had and with a final bow, he sent the unknown strange folk arcing over him and into the ground head first.

A strange cracking noise reached his ears.

He quickly stood up and looked at his unmoving foe. While he was unsure if the unknown strange was dead or merely stunned, he knew that he could not afford to take that chance. After a quick look around, he found a small, but sturdy bone that had been stripped clean by his foe's feasting. Next, he created a lethal tourniquet by inserting this bone into the loops of makeshift garrote. Then, with both hands, he began twisting the sturdy bone. With each turn of the bone, the double loops bit deeper into the neck of his foe. Even when he reached the point that he could no longer tighten the tourniquet, he was still was unsure of his foe's death. This doubt prompted him to begin searching for two rocks, one with a suitable edge and another to pound the first with. With these rocks he began the slow and grisly task of decapitating his foe.

Only when he finished that unpleasant task did he finally relax.

He laid down near the campfire and felt the burning sensation within himself go away. As did the painful swelling in his body and joints. Even the strange red tint that affected his vision began to wane. As the minutes passed none of these symptoms showed any signs of returning. Instead, the familiar lethargy from before hit him with full force and with came it the feeling that he was being watched again. Cursing himself, he forced himself back onto his feet. He warily scanned the surrounding brush and trees. After a few tense moments, he spotted a moving disruption making its way through the undergrowth. Based on its movements, he could tell that it did not care if its approach was noticed.

He quickly looked around for something defend himself with. Struggling make out the simplest shapes due to dancing light cast by the nearby campfire, he saw what appeared to him to be staff or a pole on the ground near where his deceased foe was originally feasting. When he picked up the long slender object, he quickly noticed that one end was much heavier than the other. Curious, he brought the heavy end of the pole like object over the fire and instantly identified it as a spear! He avoided thinking about how fatally short his recent battle would have been if his foe had managed to pick up their weapon and instead, he focused on the spear's construction.

In the dancing light of the campfire he saw the weapon was similar to his obsidian tipped spear. The major difference between the two was the rusty metal point this weapon was armed with. The similarity continued as his eyes traveled down shaft of this weapon. Like his spear, this one also had two metal points that came off the side of the shaft to prevent frenzied beasts from working themselves up it to kill the holder of this weapon. The most intriguing aspect of these side points was the artwork on them. This artwork was not of vicious jaws or teeth of various beasts as he expected. Instead, they were of stylized butterfly wings.

Behind him, he heard the sounds of twigs snapping and branches being broken. As he pointed his foe's weapon in the direction of the noises, he hoped what was approaching was just a beast. If it was, he reasoned that he could placate it by offering the headless body of the unknown strange folk. However, as the mysterious creature emerged from undergrowth, he saw that it walked on two legs. Suddenly, he realized that he had failed to take into account the possibility that, just like him, this unknown strange folk had a partner. A partner now with a serious grudge against him.

He held the spear he found and defiantly yelled at the figure at the edge of his vision. Knowing that bluffing was his only chance salvation, focused what little energy he had remaining on standing and holding this spear. Despite his best efforts, he heard the mysterious figure pull a weapon from a sheath and begin tapping it menacingly it against something. After the mysterious figure approached few more steps, he could see the stylish, but serviceable hat impaled on the horns of the mysterious figure. It took him nearly a full minute for his mind to register that the mysterious figure was his mistress. Once he acknowledged that fact, he dropped the spear in his hands, took a few stumbling steps towards the campfire, collapsed into a heap near the fire, and blacked out.

Several times he was wakened by his mistress's boot, but he soon fell asleep each time. During these brief bouts of consciousness, he noticed the dawn nearing. When he woke up of his own accord, it was already too late for his mistress to return to her cave without risking painful exposure to the red sun. Looking around, he discovered his mistress was eating some of the unknown strange folk's kill while carefully examining the head he had cut off. He watched her for several minutes and tried to read her emotions as she pondered his handiwork. The first things to change on his mistress's face were her eyes. As her fingers examined the olive stained lines created by the makeshift garrote he had crafted from his leash, his mistress's eyes went from contempt, to surprise, and finally to being impressed.

When she turned towards him, he could see she was in her nice mode again. He tried to stand, but found it difficult to do so. However, before he could even give up, he felt the hands of his mistress helping him upright himself. He looked at her surprised as she led him to where the unknown was originally sitting near the fire and respectfully spoke her people's word for "sit". He obliged, but still looked at his mistress in wonder. When his mistress looked back at him and bit her lower lip, he could tell that she was trying to think of a way to convey a very important message. Suddenly, he noticed that her eyes lit up at the same time she broadly smiled.

He then watched as she walked over to the campfire and waved her hands around it and the remaining meat. Then, she spoke the strange folk words for "YOURS! EAT!". Hunger suddenly hit him and forced him to take a few bites of raw flesh before moving a few additional pieces closer to the flames of the campfire. As he started cooking, he heard his mistress picked up the pile of hides the unknown strange folk had collected and drop them near him. This time, she spoke her people's word for "YOURS!" again. A quick glance at the pile of hides revealed the large number of them. Furthermore, these hides were already prepared for trading. Based on these two factors, he speculated that the unknown strange folk he killed had been here for several days.

The sound of his mistress shouting the strange folk words for "YOURS! SPEAR! HUNT! KILL!" broke his train of thought. Looking up, he saw that she was forcing the spear he discovered into his arms. Just as suddenly her outbursts began, they stopped and he could tell that his mistress was reading his responses to see if he comprehended the idea she was trying to communicate. He closed his eyes and thought about everything that just happened and how it began with his mistress identifying him as the murderer of this unknown strange folk. In a flash of inspiration, the answer came to him.

"To the victor go the spoils."


	41. Culled

He carefully tended to the remaining meat that was cooking in the campfire while he let his mind absorb recent events. He found himself strangely at ease with the fact that he had just committed a murder. After thinking about it, he speculated he was spared any guilty feelings due to him having already made the choice to do anything to survive a long time ago. Looking towards the future, he calmly faced the fact that he would have to kill hundreds of the strange folk before his time on this world was finished. Most importantly, his mistress was obviously proud of his actions. However, for some reason, he felt uneasy.

First, he wondered about the feeling of being watched. Although he had no proof, he suspected it was his mistress who was spying on him last night. This line of thinking made him wonder what was her purpose in doing so. With no answers forthcoming, his thoughts soon drifted towards the unknown strange folk and the expression of recondition he saw in the unknown strange folk's eye. Picking the severed head of his foe, he studied it carefully and compared it to his memories he still possessed of the communal camp his mistress lead him to.

He had no recollection of ever seeing the unknown strange folk there or any other time or place.

A sudden excited shout by his mistress caused him to drop the severed head and his current train of thought and look at her. While he was tending to the meat in the campfire and his own thoughts, he was barely aware of her. With a single glimpse, he saw she was carefully searching of the back wall of the rocky overhang they were currently underneath. His mistress's shout, he understood, meant that she had found something. He painfully stood up to get a better view and noticed her pulling a very large flat stone away from the wall. Behind it, was a hollow space filled with another stack of hides. He expected his mistress to appropriate this stack of ready-to-trade hides for herself. However, to his surprise, she carried this pile of hides over to the first and drop them and spoke a single word in her people's language, "Yours!"

He made a quick estimation of combined number of hides in front of him and revised his previous estimation of the length of time it took the unknown strange folk to hunt and process all these hides from several days to a few weeks. Suddenly, this time estimate triggered something in his memories. He froze as he recalled the night his mistress returned to the cave grim faced and subjected him to the scavenger entire scavenger swarm. His heart began to pound after he compared the date of that night to his newest estimate of when the unknown strange folk's arrival to this area and found them both to be close. Finally, he recalled the paths his mistress tried to lead him through the woods while he was charging after her in his altered mental state and discovered that if he had followed these path further, he would have eventually come to this rocky overhang both times!

Instantly, he realized that the events of last night and the preceding weeks were no accident.

Suddenly, he felt the burning sensation inside himself again as feelings of betrayal threatened to overwhelm him. He slowly turned his head towards his mistress and, then glared at her while resisting the urge to begin attacking. Within seconds, he noticed that his mistress had seemed to read his mind and shifted back into her darker relationship with him again. Just looking at her, he could tell that she was very aware that her scheme had been revealed and the way his mistress body posture changed into a combat stance told him that she was anticipating his violent response to its discovery. He carefully weighed his options combined with the lethargy he was currently suffering from and decided that he should think about her motivations for manipulating him once again.

Already aware of his mistress's cruelty, he also knew that it always served some greater purpose and it tended to make him stronger. However, he had thought that he had proven himself capable of surviving on this world to her already when he nearly exterminated the red-eyed scavengers some weeks ago. From that thought, he asked himself what more could his mistress want from him. Closing his eyes and tried to see himself from her point of view.

Reliving their time together, he saw himself with much weakness at first. But, over time, he watched himself grow stronger both physically and mentally as direct result of her manipulations. Next, he focused on the moments when he impressed his mistress. Slowly, he began to see the larger question that his mistress had been dealing with for the past few weeks. While he was now capable of hunting the savage beasts and living off the land, did that mean he also possess the ability and the will to defeat one of her people in battle? Suddenly, her reasons for forcing this encounter on him became understandable to him. By moving into this area, the unknown strange folk allowed his mistress to finally get an answer to her question.

He was thankful that the answer to her question was yes!

With this realization, he felt the violent urges cease and the feelings of being betrayed go away. However, the burning sensation within him remained. At first, he was very concerned due to his very recent memories of his body painfully swelling. He did his best to remain calm and waited for any of the symptoms of his gift manifesting itself to show up. After a few minutes, none did other than the strange burning feeling inside him that persisted. Feeling in full control of himself, he looked up at his mistress and smiled. He watched as she studied him for a minute and then returned to the more affectionate relationship she had with him. Then, she sat down near him and began a story.

Based on the rolling gestures and the pronouns she was using, he guessed that her story's starting point was where she barricaded herself in her cave. From there, he watched as she made searching motions indicating to him that she managed to completely loose sight him due to all of his running around. He noticed his mistress repeatedly made these same searching motions for some time. As her tale went on, his ears detected a growing concerned tone in her voice as well.

Suddenly, he heard the pronouns that his mistress were using change and watched as her hands were mimicking the same search spiraling pattern around the olive blood smear that he executed last night. These gestures of hers confirmed his earlier suspicion that she was following and watching him. He knew that his mistress was getting close to his encounter with the unknown strange folk when she touched the ground and pretended to study it closely. Hoping to learn a new word or two in her people's language, he focused all of his attention on her hands and words.

His mistress began this part of her story with what appeared to him a strange dance involving her arms and shoulders. Upon hearing the alien words for "walk" and "run", he understood she was describing his steady jog to this rocky overhang. After a few repetitions of these motions, his mistress became very somber. He wondered about reasons for the sudden change in her tone and theorize that since his mistress kept herself well hidden last night, she missed out on almost all of his fight with the unknown strange folk.

Just as he speculated, the pronouns in her story suddenly shifted from him and back to her and her hands made gestures as if she was pushing brush and other undergrowth out of her way. Then, he saw was she pointing to his throat and, then to her ear. He interpreted these hand movements to mean that his mistress heard his two roaring shouts last night. Based on this, he guessed that his mistress thought something terrible had happened to him. He became surprised that she was actually concerned about him after these last few weeks of hell she put him through. However, something about the next alien sentence that came from her mouth stunned him.

In her somber tone, he saw his mistress point to the headless corpse and speak another sentence containing five words. Of these, he was only able to understand two, "I" and "you". He closed his eyes as his mind began processing this sentence. He recalled rarely hearing the second word spoken before and only when his mistress was talking about herself. He was about to abandon his efforts at deciphering this word's meaning due to a lack of context when he recalled his earlier speculation that his mistress had thought he had been injured or killed due to his yelling. He knew was it was a hell of stretch, but if the second word's meaning was indeed "thought" then he reasoned that it would fit both the tone of her voice and what little he had been able to glean of her people's rules for grammar.

Next, he focused his mind on the meaning of the word that followed after the word "you". Like the word "thought", he had heard this word several times before. Usually, when his mistress was referring to events in the past. The other clues he had to work with were the other words in the sentence with this word. He reasoned that since the words of her alien sentence was "I", the second was possibly "thought", the third was definitely "you" then the possible definitions for the fourth alien word had to be rather small. In his mind, he quickly ran through all the words that made sense for the fourth word and decided since the alien word was only a single syllable, then its meaning might as well be "were".

He was now left with only one unknown word left. After searching his memories again, he realized that he had never heard of this word before. However, judging from his mistress's somber tone when she spoke and the fact that this word followed the identifier for her race he guessed that this word was a verb. He did not take long to figure out just what kind of action his mistress believed the unknown strange folk had done to him.

"killed"

But, he soon found a flaw in his thinking. He had already learned the word for "kill" and it was very different from this new word. This discovery perplexed him and he wondered why the strange folk would have two different words for the same action. One idea he had was it was a form of slang his mistress was using. But, when he spoke this new word while pretending to stab the hides with the spear, his mistress corrected him by speaking the word for "kill". Stymied by her reply, he considered the possibility that this new word was the strange folk's equivalent to the English word murder.

He tried several times to ferret out the difference in meaning for this new word and the word he already knew for "kill". However, with each failure he felt frustration building up in his mistress and himself. Even worse, he could feel the burning sensation inside himself building as well. Soon, his head started to ache from all this thinking and he raised his hands to his head to rub it. He was close to ceasing his efforts at translating this enigmatic new word when a thought popped into his head from out of nowhere as if it were typed into his brain.

"culled"

For a few moments, he wondered if he was being communicated with by someone or something with mind powers similar to the dragons he ran afoul of a long time ago. But, those those worries were soon drowned in a sea of revelations and realizations set off by the sudden decoding of this one word. All at once, many of the various questions he had about the strange folk's culture were answered. He now understood they were indeed a warrior culture with a strong and competitive eugenics philosophy. With this new understanding, he silently judged himself by strange folk's standards and discovered he did not murder, but culled the unknown strange folk.

When he finally recovered from this cultural shock, he noticed his mistress was looking at him as if he had just suffered a stroke. He could not help, but to look at her and be further impressed with her. He took a few bites of cooked meat and listened to the rest of her tale. He even laughed when she made exaggerated stabbing motions with her hands which indicated to him that she saw right through his bluff last night. Once she finished her story, he began to examine the hides one by one. About half way through one pile, he found one hide that was completely unlike any he had seen before. Curious, he picked up this pure white hide and carefully examined it.

To his complete astonishment, there was not a single non-white hair anywhere on it. This discovery completely blew his mind as the odds of a beast with albinism surviving long enough to produce a hide worth taking on this world was far from remote. He felt both sides of this alabaster colored hide and thought it might be a good hide for a good map. He had considered the idea of copying the map wall in his mistress's cave several times before, but never got past the planning stages due to the colorful patterns of the hides available to him that would make drawing a legible map nearly impossible. After a few moments of mental planning, he was distracted by a gasp from his mistress. He looked at her and saw that she had both hands over mouth and she appeared to be appalled at the all white hide he was examining. He did not understand what her reasons for acting the way she was, but he decided not to antagonize her any further and put the hide away.

He went through one pile of hides and started on the second while making a third pile for the hides he wanted to keep for himself. When he made it about half way through the second pile, a small square of material floated away from the pile and landed next to the campfire where it quickly caught fire. He reached over and snatched this material away from the campfire and smothered the flames that were about to consume it. Once the threat of fire had passed, he examined the partially burnt square.

With a quick feel, he identified the mysterious material as paper, but what he found more interesting were the rows and rows of strange glyphs on one side of it. Although he could not understand them, he could tell by the sameness in the glyphs that this document had been printed and not written by hand. However, when he reached the bottom of this document he felt the blood drain from his face. There was a crude figure printed there and around its neck was a beast's collar, on its back there was a pack, and this figure's eyes were blue on white just like his. At that moment, he understood why the unknown strange folk recognized him and what he was looking at was a wanted poster.

Furthermore, somebody with access to a printing press was searching for him.


	42. Alone and Unsupervised

He felt his mistress grab the paper and slowly worked it out of his hand. He looked at her face as she started examining the glyphs on it. Based on the way his mistress's eyes repeatedly shifted from her left to her right, he could tell that she was literate and the growing frown on her face told him that she did not approve of what she was reading. Eventually, his mistress stopped reading the glyphs and stood next to the slowly dying campfire and stared intensely into it. He could see easily see that she wanted to cast the wanted poster into the flames and be done with it. But, he noticed there was something about the way his mistress was clenching the offensive paper in her fist that spoke of an unfulfilled obligation. After a few moments, he saw his mistress turn her back to him and under her breath he heard her mutter a series of words of which he understood only two.

"No trade"

He suddenly got the feeling that his mistress need some time alone and looked at shadows around the rocky overhang to see how much of the day was left. Based on what he saw, he determined that the time of day was about early afternoon. Figuring he had plenty of time to make the journey back to his mistress's cave before nightfall, he tied up all the hides he wanted to keep including the pure white one and placed them on one of his shoulders. This act caused him to grunt and turn his attention to the source of fresh pain he was feeling. There, he saw the wound his mistress had given last night and noticed it appeared to be already inflamed. Acknowledging that he should not aggravate it any further, he switched the load of hides to his other shoulder and grabbed the spear he had won. Then, he made his way towards the edge of the shadow cast by the rocky overhang and stopped. He made an attempt to communicate to his mistress that he was returning to her cave by uttering the words he knew as "I go walk" while pointing in the direction of her dwelling.

All he got as a response from her was a dismissing hand wave.

With a sigh, he stepped into the light and winced as the spent muscles in his legs sent a fresh wave of pain with the first step he took. He was forced to accept what was once a pleasant hour's jog was now going to be a painful multiple hour long affair. Employing his spear as a staff, he took another step and fought his way through another wave of pain. As he slowly made his way back towards the only place on this world he considered home, he had plenty of time to think of his mistress's reaction to the wanted note.

Something in those two understandable words spoken by his mistress caused him to recall the very moment when he became aware that his mistress was going to sell him and the events that followed. Particularly, her attempt at breaking his spirit by subjecting him to the scavenger swarm for the very first time. As he traveled further on, other remembered events came together in his mind like the pieces to a puzzle. The greedy look on the face of the Merchant and the exchange of goods for the set of metal tools that his mistress now possessed weighed heavily on his mind. He had precious little information to go on, but for the first time he considered the thought that these hides and the other parts of beasts were not as nearly valuable as he first thought.

He figured that since his mistress was a veteran of the losing side of whatever recent conflict had divided the strange folk and an escaped slave, he now saw the transfer of goods from his mistress to the Merchant was a bribe to get the Merchant to trade with her and not for the metal tools she received. Suddenly, he realized that the real the payment for his mistress's tool set had always been him and the merchant was only letting her keep him so she could work on his physical attributes until a suitable buyer was found.

Based on what he saw on the wanted note, he had a bad feeling that one was eventually discovered.

Now aware that she had sold him long ago, he understood the inner conflict his mistress was experiencing. Their strange relationship they had formed now complicated the trade she had made with the Merchant. He was reasonably sure what she was going to do about this situation. Based on everything he knew about her, he speculated his mistress was going to take the hides he had left behind, find the Merchant, and try to negotiate a new deal. How long this search for the Merchant would take he did not know, but he was certain that his mistress was going to need a lot of hides and teeth to make up the difference between the value of her tool set and him.

He vowed that he would help her make up the difference and attempted to increase his pace of travel, but the increased pain he felt coming his legs and the wound on his shoulder made quicker travel difficult. He pushed through the new pain as best he could, but soon was forced to accept the reality that he was in no shape to hunt and that he needed to take care of himself first. After a few hours of walking, he finally came to his mistress's cave.

He let out a sigh of relief when he saw that his mistress had not bothered to block the entrance with the boulder. Although he was incredibly tired, the wound on his shoulder had priority over everything else he needed or wanted to do. He quickly stashed his new belongings near his area of the cave and searched for and found his obsidian skinning knife. Thus armed, he then set out to into the brush and undergrowth to find some of the maroon colored plants he was familiar with. Once he found a sufficient quantity of these plants, he made his way to the dew pond to clean, wash, and treat the wound. When he could no longer feel the burning of the maroon plants in his wound, he returned to his mistress's cave. Back inside, he searched for his mistress's tool set and took the smallest needle from it and inserted through its eye with one of his spider silk threads. Finally, he began the long and painful process of stitching his shoulder wound close. After that unpleasant task was finished, he rested.

He woke to the sounds of the night beasts rousing themselves. He felt rested, but the muscles in his limbs were still sore. For a brief moment, he wondered why the interior of the cave was so quiet and dark. Then, he recalled his earlier prediction that his mistress was going to be away for some time. He hoped that her absence would last just a few days and got a fire going. Thinking of all things he could do, he decided on copying the wall map in the back chamber to the white hide. He spent several minutes working through all of the steps and items he would need for such a project. He identified his primary need was a decent light source.

After making a few torches, he explored the back chamber and set his white hide and his marking tools on the floor. However, he soon found the copying process maddening. Every time he lit a torch, he had just a few precious minutes of flickering light to work with. Furthermore, the size of the map on the wall completely dwarfed the size of his white hide. Thus, he was forced to scale down what he saw. As each new problem slowed his work he could feel the burning sensation within himself slowly growing as if it was feeding off his frustration. Furthermore, he noticed the more intense this feeling in him became the harder he found to maintain his self-control. Realizing that he needed to cool his temper, he returned to the main chamber and spent a few more minutes of thinking of various ways of fully illuminating the map wall so he could get an idea of its overall size and shape. Suddenly, he had an idea.

With a sufficiently large enough campfire in the back chamber, he could light up the entire room for hours at a time!

With haste, he assembled a large mass of tinder, sticks, and firewood in the center of the back chamber and then lit it. For a few minutes he reveled in his cleverness and made a quick search of the back chamber. Quickly, he found where his mistress had been hiding the "stew pot". As he walked over to when he had laid out the white hide and his marking tools, he suddenly and unexpectedly yawned. Thinking nothing of it, he sat down and picked up his marking tool. For a few moments, he forgot what he was doing before remembering his purpose for being in the back chamber. Once he remembered, he tried wetting his marking tool in the makeshift ink he had made, but he discovered his hand was shaking too badly for him to do so. He finally realized that something was off when he sensed that his heart was beating quickly for no apparent reason.

When he saw the tips of his fingers had turned blue, the hairs on the back of neck stood up!

At that moment, he understood that this back chamber was only engineered to house and supply fresh air to several of the strange folk at a time and it did not have enough ventilation to feed the roaring camp fire he had built. He quickly rose up and tried to run for the corridor that connected this chamber to the main one, but before he could make his third stride he felt this chamber tilt to one side before feeling the ground slam into him. Knowing he had precious few seconds to escape this death trap he managed to craft for himself, he reached for the opening for this chamber and pulled himself towards it. Again, and again, he repeated his movements a few times and manged to drag himself through the opening. Down the corridor he saw the light from cooking fire flickering.

Cursing himself for his own stupidity, he forced himself to his knees and began crawling towards the light at the end of corridor. He struggled to keep his eyes open as he crawled. But, with each completed cycle of movement of his arms and legs his eyelids became heavier. He knew that to pass out in the corridor would be fatal and he searched for anything he could that keep himself conscious for just a little bit longer. In desperation, he slammed his head against the rough hewn walls of the corridor. The fresh pain had a temporary invigorating effect as well as causing the burning sensation within himself to grow further. However, even this tactic stopped being effective after being employed few times.

He managed to crawl a few more body lengths before he caught himself falling asleep for the first time. Just before he roused himself, he caught a far-off glimpse of a golden room. He traveled another body length of ground on his hands and knees before succumbing again. This time, the golden room was a little bit closer than the last time. He played this cycle out again and again and each time he lost consciousness, the golden room came little more closer.

He became certain that was he about perish and his thoughts turned towards his mistress. Instead of helping her, he was now aware that his death going to make her situation far worse. He recalled his vow to help his mistress and felt the burning sensation in him build to unbearable levels. He slipped into unconsciousness one more time and saw the golden room was now right in from front of him now and he could identify it as the same room from his weird prophetic dreams.

Furthermore, his viewpoint that he saw golden room from the very bed he always woke up in during his dreams.

Despite the vision before him, he was still dimly aware of his heart fiercely pounding and his body lying face down on the floor of the corridor. He tried crawling again to his surprise, his body obeyed. Next, he willed his eyes to open and the dream room became bleary and mixed with the flickering light at the end of the corridor while a reddish tint started to fill his sight. He was unsure if he was either alive or dead and he had the odd feeling that he was in two places at the same time. All he knew was that he had to keep crawling forwards. As he did so, he could feel the burning sensation within himself diminishing.

When he no longer feel its presence inside him, he collapsed and blacked out.

He awoke with the worst headache he ever had. Looking around, he saw that he was on the ground, halfway through the opening that connected the main chamber of his mistress's cave to the corridor. He slowly regained his footing and wonder for how long he had been asleep. The only clue to the duration of his unconsciousness were the cold ashes in the fireplace. He massaged his head in an attempt to get rid of the terrible headache he was suffering from and thought about the lessons he learned from this surreal experience.

Without the burning sensation inside him, he found it easier to think. He knew he should have died from his recent misadventure in the back chamber, but his gift manifesting itself saved him once again. What perplexed he most was its effect this time. Like the first time he became aware of it, his gift had kept him going after he had exhausted nearly every energy reserve in his body. However, after what he had just experienced, he wondered if his gift also allowed him to cheat death for duration of its manifestation too. How to safely test such a hypothesis eluded him.

He felt a breeze blow fresh air onto him and his terrible headache relented somewhat. Taking this fortunate event as a clue, he left the cave to clear his head and when he returned, he brought with him a large frond-like piece of plant matter and began fanning fresh air into the cave. The main chamber was quickly cleared of any dangerous odorless fumes since it had plenty of natural ventilation, but the corridor proved a bit more tricky to clear. He repeatedly tried to fan fresh into it, but he was forced to abscond out of his mistress's cave many times whenever his headache returned. Finally, he worked his way into the back chamber and was able fan enough fresh air into it after a few hours of trying. Satisfied that his mistress's cave was safe again, he sat down in usual spot and thought about his other projects and ranked them in order of safety.

A water skin seemed to be the safest project to him.


	43. Taking Control

Suspecting that his first effort was most likely going to end failure, he decided to keep things simple. He mentally reviewed his various ideas for a water skin and picked a design that would use his most abundant resources he had at the moment. Which were the plentiful hides he had claimed from the unknown strange folk he had culled. He went through each one again and carefully noted their varying qualities. Next, he thought about what hazards his future water skin would probably encounter and picked out a hide from his collection that appeared to have the best traits to survive the rigors of this world. As he held this particularly warty hide in his hand, he realized that it was from a beast he had yet to see.

He experimentally folded this hide in different ways while imagining how this water skin was going to hang against his body. After he finished all of his careful planning, he decided to stitch the hide into an oblong tube shape with an opening at one end. He quickly finished the tight stitching on his water skin and left his mistress's cave to test his creation at the dew pond. Once there, he dipped his water skin into the pond to fill it. To his pleasant surprise, his water skin did not leak like sieve when he removed it from the pond. Instead, it slowly wept out the occasional drop of water. He knew he had more to do before he was finished, but he was already happy with the progress he was making. He raised his unfinished water skin to his lips for a celebratory sip. He quickly noticed there was a new "flavor" in the water, but it was too faint identify what it was. Looking towards the horizon, he saw that the red sun was rising.

Suddenly, a fresh pang of hunger hit him and he returned to his mistress's cave. Back inside, he searched for some meat to cook, but soon remembered that he had not hunted in days. Accepting that there was nothing for him to eat inside the cave, he propped his water skin against the wall of the cave where the water that was slowly leaking from it would not harm anything else. Then, he went outside to forage for some plants to eat and returned a few hours later chewing on a mouthful of edible plant matter. After swallowing his meal, he retrieved his water skin and took second drink form it. This time he gagged as he instantly identified the new flavor in the water as a cross between foot and fungus.

Disgusted, he tossed the seemingly useless warty hide water skin out of the cave and brooded for a bit.

Based on the flavor he had unwitting sampled, he guessed that the warty hide was pulled from a giant swamp dwelling creature. He continued to watch the water skin slowly lose its fungus and foot flavored water as he tried to get the unpleasant flavor out of his mouth. Even after it had been hurled with all his might, the warty water skin's ability to survive damage and retain its liquid cargo impressed him. He again reviewed his thoughts for a water skin and recalled one idea he had that relied on the adhesive from the spider silk to form an impervious barrier to water. A quick dig through his possessions reveal the bundles of giant spider silk he had yet to process due to his lack of an airtight container to keep the adhesive from hardening into a nearly indestructible barrier.

After taking a second look at the discarded wart covered water skin, he knew he had just found his glue container.

He quickly got a fire going and retrieved his mistress's "stew pot" from the back chamber and filled it with water from the dew pond. To avoid any possible errant breezes, he worked the entrance boulder into its entrance blocking position with the aid of his new spear. Finally ready, he skewered one of his many masses of spider silk with his old obsidian spear and wedged it into place above the metal pot. When the water in the metal pot began to boil he felt the humidity in the cave rise to sauna levels.

Soon, he saw the adhesive sweating from the spider silk and felt his body sweat as well. By the time the first wad had given up all its sticky glue, he was feeling thirsty. He ignored his body's demand for water and continued steaming additional masses of spider silk until the adhesive in the metal pot had formed a thick layer in it. So thick that he began to notice that the steam bubbles that were forming in the adhesive were almost spraying the highly flammable fluid out of the metal pot and into the fire. Not wanting to see all his efforts go up in flames, he pulled the pot from the flames and removed the boulder from entrance of his mistress's cave. Then, he went to the dew pond to drink his fill.

By the time he return to the cave, the adhesive in the metal pot was still too hot for and liquid him to do anything productive with it. He figured since it needed time to cool down some more and that he was tired of eating vegetation, he decided to go hunting. He stretched and bent his body as he assessed his wellness. His legs quickly reminded him of their stiffness and soreness. But, he found he could move at a jogging pace by fighting through the pain his legs gave him. Based on this development, he figured he would stick to the smaller beasts for meat today and wait another day or two before going out for larger hide bearing beasts. He strapped a belt for his obsidian skinning knife and selected his bow as his weapon for this hunt, his reason being the additional range his bow gave him would, hopefully, minimize the amount of running he may be required to perform. Finally, he outfitted himself with a quiver full of arrows and left the cave.

He traveled through the undergrowth until he came edge of the wooded area that concealed his mistress's cave. Then, he journeyed along its edge just in case he happened to encountered something that had to be avoided by climbing into a nearby tree. At first, his legs protested their movements by sending him fresh pain. However, after awhile, he got used to the discomfort and was able to maintain a steady jog. He kept his eyes on the ground as he continued on for several miles and noticed many different types of tracks made by as many different kinds of beast. Again, he became amazed at the swiftness the other beasts were able to colonize this region, now that the scavenger packs were now gone.

After studying these trails, he realized that most of the trails were too old to be worth following and the few that were worth the effort of tracking, but had been made by beasts he did not wish to tangle with while in his current condition. He was about to give up hunting in the region around his mistress's cave and try his luck elsewhere when he heard the growl of an ambush predator nearby. Suddenly wishing he had brought his spear, he notched an arrow and looked in the direction he heard the growl. After a few moments, he heard the bestial sound again and identified both its direction and distance from him. He required a few seconds to calm down once he understood that he was not under attack.

Once calm again, a thought suddenly came to him.

Based on what he was hearing, the ambush predator was fighting something else. If that was the case, he speculated, then he might be able to kill off the winner of that battle or even both creatures! Either way, he figured that the risk was worth it. He took another moment to test which direction the fickle breeze was blowing and began stealthily approaching downwind from the growling. He did not need to make many steps before his eyes picked up movement ahead of him. Dropping onto his belly, he crawled closer until he could clearly see what was going on. In front of him, he clearly saw a decent sized ambush predator sniffing at hole near a very large tree stump.

From his hidden vantage point he watched the beast as it stared intensely at the hole. Then, with incredible quickness, he saw the ambush predator shove its large paw into the opening. One frustrated growl latter, the ambush predator circled the tree stump and seemed to freeze again. Curious at the actions of this feline like beast, he silently circled both the stump and the ambush predator and noticed that there was a second hole that also led under the large stump. After a few more moments, the ambush predator repeated its attempt at pulling whatever was under the large stump out. Both its frustrated growl and its twitching tail told him that the ambush predator had failed once again.

He watched these antics for several minutes before realizing that the ambush predator's actions were predictable. Having killed and butchered several these beasts already, he now knew where their vital organs were buried in their bodies. He slowly rose to one knee, notched an arrow, and waited for a moment where the beast would be unable to dodge his arrow. As he waited for his shot, he studied the dappled hide of the ambush predator and found a swirl of brown and black that would excellently serve as a target on this creature. His patience was soon rewarded. In a blink of an eye the ambush predator again tried to attempt to claw out whatever was under the large stump. He aimed at the swirl on the beast's hide, drew fully on his bow, and released his arrow with deadly accuracy.

To his delight, the ambush predator suffered a convulsive fit for a moment and then became still.

He rushed up to the dead ambush predator in order to process his prize. As he made the cuts to peel the hide off the ambush predator's carcass, he kept sensing small vibrations in dead beast's body. These movements bothered him and several times he tried to discover their source with no luck. Feeling nervous, he continued his work until he came to the final cut. To make the final cut down the arm of the deceased ambush predator, he realized that he needed to first to pull the dead ambush predator's arm from opening that led under the large stump. He put his skinning knife back on his belt and grabbed his prey's arm with both hands and got ready to pull. However, when he attempted to do so, he felt resistance!

He suddenly understood the vibrations he was sensing all along was coming from the creature under the large tree stump. Not wanting to give up an entire leg to this unknown stump beast, he put his shoulder under the deceased creature's arm and lifted with his legs. He felt fresh pain as his legs reluctantly obeyed and soon after the burning sensation within him made itself known as well. Again, he tried to free the leg of his prize, but the stump beast refused to let go of its prize. Quickly, he became obsessed with freeing his kill and as a result a peculiar game of tug-o-war broke out. At first, he made steady progress, but as the game went on, he noticed that the creature of the stump was getting stronger and soon he was stalemated.

Despite the fierce pounding of his heart, he refused to give up and as the burning within him increased he could feel it being channeled it through his legs and arms as he pulled. The pain and any fatigue he was feeling quickly faded as he continued this game of tug-o-war with the stump beast. Realizing that he was not going to win by power alone. He quickly shifted his tactics to include twisting and bending the arm of the ambush predator in various ways. Inch by inch, he slowly worked his way towards victory, screaming all the way. After a few more minutes, he sensed he was about to win and decided to end this competition with one final pull.

He waited until he felt the stump beast slip inside its tunnel, then he put everything he had into this last pull. At that moment, he felt all resistance disappear and he was sent stumbling backwards. He tripped backwards over the corpse of his kill, but quickly regained his footing by rolling with his momentum. Then, he rose up into a fighting stance while arming himself with his obsidian skinning knife. Then, a new thought popped into his mind.

It commanded him to kill the stump beast.

He looked at it and saw it was just a little bit larger than a human child of four years of age and it stood on two feet. On its head were a pair of small horns that were nearly buried in its wild and unkempt black hair that covered most of its body. Furthermore, he noticed its hands were raised in a defensive stance. Again, the thought to kill this beast repeated itself and he felt a powerful compulsion to act out this command as the red tint from before began intruding on the edges of his vision. However, when he raised his foot to take his first step towards the stump beast, something stopped him.

Something primal and very human.

Whatever shred of his human nature he still managed to preserve, he understood that it was refusing to let him carry out this action. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the endless repeating thoughts that commanded him to kill the stump beast just like he managed to partially block the dragon's mental assault on him so long ago. This course of action both helped by garbling the strange thoughts that were clouding his own mind and confirmed that someone or someones were manipulating him by some unknown device or method.

When he opened his eyes a second time, he finally noticed the grey skin and tiny hands and feet of the feral child that he presumed lived under the large stump. Furthermore, he saw that its hands weren't raised in a defensive stance. They were just shielding its sensitive night adapted eyes from the light of the red sun overhead. Looking down at the scars left behind from first feral child he encountered, he decided not to act on his human instinct to coddle this feral child and instead slowly hid behind the carcass of his kill and observed it.

After a minute, he saw the feral child of the stump lowered its hands from its eyes and look around. It quickly noticed the dead ambush predator he killed and began its cautious approach, but after a few steps it spotted him. Recalling the surprising amount of power last the feral child he had encountered possessed, he got ready to defend himself from this potential tiny terror. However, its only response was to screech at him and disappear down its hole far faster than he thought was possible. Despite his gift manifesting itself at the moment, he walked to hole and looked down it.

From the darkness under the large tree stump, he saw two eyes were looking back at him.


	44. Stimulus and Response

He slowly backed away from the eyes that were watching him. Based on what happened to him with the previous feral child he met, he decided to leave well enough alone and move the carcass of his kill further away from the stump. He grabbed the freshly liberated arm of the ambush beast and started pulling. As he did so, he noticed that there was spot on the arm he was pulling where the hide on it had been stripped away and the exposed muscles underneath had been obviously chewed on. This observation again triggered the remnants of his humanity, but he did his best to ignore these feelings by focusing on dealing with the side-effects of the ever-increasing energy his gift was still supplying him with. Despite his best efforts, the last shred of humanity within him drew to his attention to one important comparison.

This feral child was much like him after his initial encounter with his mistress.

He immediately ceased dragging the carcass of his kill as he felt that last thought sank in. While there were contrasts between the two of them, he could not help himself from wondering what was more important for survival on this world, having a guardian or natural ability. As his thoughts turned towards to how to help this feral child, he knew he had to be careful on how he helped it. Catching it was out of the question, as any attempt to do so would be interpreted as an attack. Furthermore, he doubted his mistress would not allow him to keep the child, in fact, there was the real possibility she would cull the feral child. He did not want to think that she would be the kind of person to do such a thing. However, he could not rule out that outcome based on the fates of the previous two strange folk who made the mistake of coming this close to her cave.

A painful swelling in his hands changed his thoughts from finding ways of helping the feral child of the stump to eliminating the greatest danger to it, himself. He understood that the sooner he finished processing the ambush predator's carcass, the further away he would be from the feral child, and the safer it would be. Pulling out his skinning knife, he began making the final cut that would enable him to peel the hide off his kill. Just as his obsidian knife pierced the skin of his kill, he felt that he was being watched. He slowly turned his head towards the stump in anticipation of an attack. But, all he briefly saw through his red tinted vision were the horns on the feral child's head as it quickly disappeared down its hole again.

He turned around again to resume his work, but his curiosity got the better of him and he adjusted the carcass of his kill so that he could still observe the hole the feral child was hiding in through the corner of his eye as he worked. Then, he waited. His patience was soon rewarded as the feral child slowly raised just enough of its head to watch him again. As he finished the skinning process, he made several glances through the corner of his eye at the feral child of the stump and quickly noticed that it was fixated on his obsidian skinning knife. Despite the painful swelling building in his arms and legs, he again felt pity for the feral child.

He peeled the hide off the dead ambush predator and started butchering the best portions of meat from it. While he quickly worked, he kept looking back at the feral child. He did not fear cutting one of his fingers with the razor sharp piece of volcanic glass he was cutting with since he had performed this task hundreds of times already and he was wearing gloves. Throughout this butchering process, he saw the feral child kept up its careful observation of the actions he was making with of his cutting tool. It even intensely stared at it intensely he placed the knife on the ground. With all the meat he wanted was cut free, he hastily wrapped all it in the hide and picked up the resulting bundle and started his way back to his mistress's cave.

He suddenly froze in mid step when the realization that he had forgotten something hit him. Looking back at the remains of his kill, he noticed that he had left his skinning knife behind. For a few moments he internally debated whether or not to fetch his trusty knife. But on the other hand hand, he also knew he could easily make a new and better skinning knife with all the new materials and tools available to him now. Furthermore, his skills at shaping obsidian had improved due to all the arrows he had recently made. He turned his back on his old skinning knife for the last time.

As he left the large stump, he smiled knowing that his old knife would serve its new owner well.

He restarted the journey back to the only place on this world that felt like a home. His legs protested at first, but with a few strides the pain in them faded and soon he was traveling at good run. As he ran, he wondered if he did the correct thing by helping the feral child of the stump or was he merely prolonging its suffering. He knew from experience that death on this savage world was often swift and brutal. Based on that knowledge, he asked himself if it was wise to make investments in the feral child to increase what he perceived were its low odds of survival. At that moment, he stopped suddenly.

He realized that his mistress had to been asking herself that same question throughout their strange relationship.

He decided that was really important was that he would not be the one to cull the feral child of the stump. As he reflected on recent events, he began to feel a little proud. The whole experience involving the feral child left him with knowledge that he could restrain his gift. Even if he was only currently capable just a modicum of control over it, he now believed that over time he could fully master this gift of his.

He resumed his trek back to his mistress's cave. By the time he reached it, the burning sensation within himself, the swelling in his limbs, and redness in his sight had all diminished. Taking a minute to rest, he quickly sensed this was just a temporary reprieve. Based on the slowly growing internal fires he still felt inside him, he knew he needed something he could productively channel all this energy into. Near their dwindling supplies of firewood, he found a solution to his current problem, his mistress's metal axe.

He instantly knew that he did not permission to use it, but he felt that his current situation was an emergency. Furthermore, he doubted that his stone axe could bear the incredible stresses he was about to subject the axe of his mistress to. With his justifications finished, he grabbed his mistress's fire wood axe and charged out of the cave. Looking to the red sun in the sky, its position told him that there was still enough time left in the day to chop down a tree and process it into firewood.

Becoming fixated on this one task, he set off into the woods around his mistress's cave to search for a suitable tree to fell. His arms and legs were already swelling up and the redness was infiltrating his vision again by the time he found one. He gripped the axe's handle tightly as he walked up to the tree and sized it up for a moment. Then, he began to chop at it.

With the first strike against the tree's trunk, he noticed the sounds of the axe slamming into the tree seemed off. A few more swings confirmed his suspicions that his gift was starting to fully manifest due to the way the sound of the axe hitting the tree sounding increasingly drawn out. Curious, he decided to push himself as hard as he could to test the limits of his gift in this relatively safe environment. He did his best to constantly assess his body reaction to his gift's manifestation. He hoped by studying its symptoms, he might discover other techniques useful in gaining further control.

He began chopping at the tree faster and faster not really caring if his strikes were accurate or productive. To his surprise, having the desire to test his limits seemed to have encouraging effect on the internal fires inside him. Instead of slowly diminishing with the hard labor he was performing, the various side-effects of his gift all were increasing in intensity. He soon became amazed at the results this experiment and decide to keep pushing himself harder. All the pain in his body faded as any sign of fatigue as he continued to labor. The sounds from his mistress's axe hitting the tree's trunk continued becoming increasingly drawn out and fainter. Until, the beating of his heart was the only thing he could hear.

With each additional swing against the tree, his mistress's axe in his hands slowly became lighter and he felt like he was becoming increasingly off balance. At the same time, he felt the swelling from his limbs climbing up his throat and into his face. He took a moment to recover his balance. Then, he made one more strike against the tree's trunk. Through his crimson soaked vision, he saw a wood chip slowly tumble pass him in the air in slow motion. At that moment, he suddenly had that same strange dreamy feeling he had experienced previously several times from before and time itself seemed to lose to its hold on him on more time.

He walked a few more steps around while in his altered mental state. The ground seemed to tilt this way and that in response and he had trouble feeling his legs. He examined the local environment around him through his blood stained vision, quickly learning which shades of red was the ground and which were tree branches. He did not like the way his body drunkenly responded in this altered state and turn back to finish chopping the tree down. Again, he stood next to it and readied his mistress's axe in his hands.

He took a moment to examine his handiwork so far and was unhappy by what he saw. To him, it appeared that the lower trunk of the tree he had been chopping on had been attacked by a group of deranged beavers and then abandoned before the job was even halfway finished. He decided to correct his prior mistakes and start chopping properly. He raised his mistress's axe to his shoulder swung with everything he had at the tree. After giving the tool in his hands its initial motion, his eyes followed the head of the axe as it traveled its three second arcing journey into the trunk of the tree and stopped.

He freed the axe and raised it to his shoulder again. This time, he wondered what would happen kept giving the axe more and more power as it traveled. He gave his mistress axe all the power he had and kept giving it his all as it continuously accelerated throughout its arc towards the trunk of the tree. When the cutting-edge of the axe slammed into the tree two seconds later, the axe bit deeper than he had ever seen. He repeated this experiment several more times and was able to gradually reduce the amount of time for his mistress's axe to travel through its arcing path down to more normal levels. With a final powerful swing, he cleaved completely through what was left of the tree's trunk and sent the tree falling.

This event caused him to drop his mistress axe and stared at his hands in disbelief. He knew he was very strong by human standards, but the feat he had just performed rivaled what he saw the strange folk could do with their bodies and he knew from all the fighting and sparring he did with his mistress that he was not that strong. After running his fingers through his hair to search for the sudden appearance of any horns, he recalled a book he had read while back on earth.

The book was about martial artists and the feats they were able to perform after going through years discipline and training. One chapter in particular described techniques that some martial art practitioners used to send foes flying away while using only six inches of punching space. The technique described in the book started with the proper form and went into learning how to channel all of one's power through the entire motion of the strike. The chapter finished with photos of wizened old masters breaking all sorts of hard materials with their fists and other body parts.

A tingle ran up his spine once the full realization of what he had just accomplished hit him.

He picked up his mistress's axe and while his altered mental state persisted, he practiced channeling all his power into each axe stroke as he knocked off the branches from the trunk of the tree. He quickly learned that this new form of attack was an all or nothing affair and once he had committed to such an attack there was no pulling back. This drawback, he understood, meant that he would wide open to any counter-assault in a real fight once he started such an attack. Unless, his foe was unable to respond for some reason.

Once the trunk was ready to be transported back to his mistress's cave, he noticed that time had caught up with him and the red tint was starting to fade slowly. He grabbed the trunk and began dragging it back to his mistress's cave with all the speed he could muster. Once he positioned the log into area they reserved for chopping wood, he began breaking the trunk down into firewood. With every swing of his mistress's axe, he could feel the inner fire inside himself diminish and then start to slowly stoke itself again.

This development was welcomed by him since there was a lot fire wood that needed cutting. He continued to work through the day chopping firewood and took only short breaks to quench his thirst. With each water break he noticed his gift had vanished a bit more. Soon he was feeling all the aches and pains that hard work brings and with every step he made, the burning sensation inside him died a little bit. It was late afternoon when he finally restocked both his and his mistress's firewood supplies fully. As he was about to enter the cave to cook his meal, he once again had the feeling he was being watched. He looked along the tree line that surrounded his mistress's cave and there he spotted a child sized form attempting to hide in the late afternoon shadows.

Instantly, his heart sank. He asked himself how the child discovered the location of his mistress's cave and when he looked at the ground, he was quickly answered. From the tree line to the cave's entrance ran a faint blood trail that matched the blood color of the ambush predator he had killed earlier in the day. He cursed himself for making the very same mistake that the strange folk he culled did.

Concerned for the feral child's safety, he picked up a large piece of firewood and brandished it while screaming at it in both English and the strange folk's language to leave. Despite his best efforts, the feral child of the stump only response was to make another poor attempt at hiding among the shadows. Too weary to continue putting up with the feral child's refusal to leave, he succumbed to his frustration by raising the piece of firewood above his head and hurling it in the child's general direction. However, the instant the wood left his hand another thought popped into his head and it was the same two words from before.

"KILL IT!"


	45. Solving Problems

He closed his eyes as the two words began endlessly repeating themselves in his mind. As he felt legs starting to move of their own volition, he desperately fought off the compulsion to act out the command given to him. He worked through his entire repertoire of mental tricks and eventually was able to silence the foreign thoughts in his head. However, the sight that greeted him when he finally opened his eyes chilled him. Somehow, he had walked several paces from where he threw the piece of firewood at the feral child over to where he had left the fire wood axe belonging to mistress.

Even worse, the axe was now in his hands and he had no recollection of picking it up.

At that moment, he understood that the part of him that reacted to dangers that were either unseen or to fast to defend against had a serious drawback. It was highly suggestible. He did not know if this other part of him was just another byproduct of his gift or a complex melange of his now highly tuned senses and fighting skills combined with his desire and willpower to survive anything this world could throw at him. Whatever this other side of him was, he realized he needed to actively assert control over it.

Clutching his mistress's axe tightly against himself, he continued to struggle against the powerful compulsion to cull the feral child. As the urge gradually became less, the symptoms of his gift reappearing started to emerge. Starting with the rapid beating of his heart, one by one, nearly all the other internal and external signs of his gift revealed themselves. This development dumbfounded him. Previously, he had believed that he needed to recover fully before his gift could manifest again. But, what he was experiencing at this moment disproved that theory. As the swelling climbed up his throat into his face, he wondered if he had always been capable of multiple manifestations of his gift or was this a new development was a result his body adapting to the stresses placed upon it. The fact that he was recovering faster from each violent episode had not escaped his notice.

He took several minutes to make sure he was in full control of himself again. Then, he looked through his red tinted vision at where he last saw the feral child. He again felt renew frustration when he saw that it still had not absconded. As that feeling lingered he sensed the burning sensation within himself building as well. Based on this observance and many others from before, he now understood that there was definite connection between his emotional state and the flames that burn inside him.

He raised the head of his mistress's axe to his face and pressed it's cool metal blade against his forehead in an attempt to reverse the swelling of his face. Next, he asked himself what was he going to do with the feral child. As he pulled the axe's head from his face, he saw something reflected on its dull and grime encrusted surface. With one quick spit shine later, he was able to see his red swollen face in its reflection. The amount of redness in his reflection triggered memories of the pools of olive coloration that often appeared on his mistress's face when she was in her more affectionate relationship with him.

Suddenly, he had an idea to get rid of the feral child without resorting to violence!

Knowing that human children tended to react with disgust whenever they perceived public displays of affection, he decided to see if the same was true on this world. He summoned his limited acting skills and began slowly approaching the feral child. He was able to close half the distance between him and the feral child before it began to slowly back away. Upon noticing the feral child's backward movement, he stopped, knelt, and watched its response. Slowly, he saw the feral child make a few quiet steps towards him and look directly at him.

Now certain that it could see him, he put his plan into action. He closed his eyes and through the pain and swelling of his face he adopted the same tender facial expression his mistress often gave him in her more affectionate moments. Then, he opened his eyes and looked at the feral child in such a way that he was certain he would have been sent to prison if he was back on Earth.

The look of sheer disgust and revulsion the feral child gave him just before it absconded caused him to suffer a fit of giggling.

He continued to snicker as retrieved the last arm load of firewood and brought it and his mistress's axe into the cave. Then, he rolled the entrance blocking boulder into place. The ease at which he performed this task did not escape his notice and he noticed that the internal fires within himself diminished just a bit with this task. He was thankful for the small dose of relief and did not bother question why the burning feeling inside him was not building anymore.

Once back inside the cave, he spent several minutes looking through the cracks around the boulder to make sure that the feral child stayed gone. He only ceased his watch when hunger reminded him that he had not eaten all day. As he grabbed some firewood from his pile, he remembered the pot containing the adhesive for his incomplete "glueskin" project was still in the fireplace. He looked in the pot and quickly discovered that the glue he had sweated from the spider silk had already congealed into a solid mass. Using a small bit of wood, he found the congealed mess was much to thick to properly pour into the wart covered hide. Since he was so hungry, he decided to kill two birds with one stone by shifting the pot to one side of the fire so that it could warm up while he cooked his meal.

By the time he was finished cooking and eating, the congealed contents of the pot had warmed up enough to be pourable. He stopped for a moment and thought about the possibility of a spill inside the cave and the difficulty of cleaning the resulting mess. Deciding to err on the side caution, he chose to fill the "glueskin" outside the cave. He grabbed the warty receptacle and checked it to see if it retain any water. To his surprise, it did and he was forced to pull out a portion of its stitches so he could dry the internal surfaces of his "glueskin".

He gathered everything he needed together and looked through the cracks around the entrance blocking boulder. As he did so, he began to feel the strains and weariness of the day's activities beginning make themselves known to him. A sudden yawn reminded him that he had not slept in some time as well. Despite all these aches and pains, he felt oddly energized and in good spirits. He looked at his hands and arms and noticed that the swelling in them had receded too. After examining himself for a bit, the only symptoms of his gift remaining were both the energetic feeling he was currently experiencing and the burning sensation inside himself.

He easily rolled the boulder away from the entrance again and felt the flames within himself die just a bit. He became intrigued by the boulder's sudden change in mass and decided to shift it around a few times in an attempt to find out what was going on. As he carried out his impromptu experiments, he felt the last rays of the red sun on his body as it set and the slow return of the swelling in his arms and legs. The results of his experimentation revealed to him that the boulder was not any less massive or that he had become any stronger. Instead, he was surprised to discover that it was that odd change in his perception of time that his gift gave him that gave him the illusion of strength.

Even, in his current lucid mental state, he was still experiencing a very subtle version of that strange alteration in his perception of time.

Having solved that mystery, he looked along the barely visible treeline for any child like forms attempting to hide and saw nothing. Satisfied that he was alone, he walked over to where he last saw the feral child and only saw the prints of its bare feet in the dirt. He stared at these bare footprints and briefly considered making a pair of boots for the feral child of the stump. After a bit more thought, he realized he should do instead is teach the wild child how to sew its own boots. Knowing he had other things to do do at the moment, he returned to the entrance of his mistress's cave and tended to his current project.

He searched for a suitable tree from which to hang his partially undone glue receptacle from and brought the pot with its still warm contents near it. After grabbing a few large leaves, he used them to keep the glue in the pot as he poured off the water that still remained trapped under the thick layer of adhesive. Next, he hanged the opened up "glueskin" in the tree's branches and placed some of the large leaves inside it so they formed a crude, but effective funnel. Finally, he began pouring the sticky glue into the warty receptacle with the aid of a large stick.

Once his bag of glue was mostly filled, he carefully removed and discarded the sticky leaves that served as a funnel and tightened the stitches on his glue receptacle again and plugged its opening with a piece of carefully shaped bone. Then, he brought the warty container of glue back into his mistress's cave and squeezed it until a tiny amount of glue worked its way through the stitching of his "glueskin" and smeared the leaked adhesive all over the stitching in an attempt to make them air proof. Finally, he put his stored glue supply in a safe place and hoped that its contents would not harden into uselessness.

With everything finished for the day, he blocked the entrance one last time just in case the feral child returned. He laid himself down to sleep, but was unable to rest due to the burning sensation still present inside him. The more he tried forcing himself, the more he tossed and turned. Soon, he became frustrated at inability to sleep and as a result he felt the internal fires inside him growing again. He sat up and mentally asked himself what he needed to do to find inner peace.

He spent a few minutes recalling every instance where is his gift manifested and what was his emotional state at those moments. As he cataloged these events, he saw a pattern emerge. It was not just the threat of danger that was summoning his gift, but strong emotions could do so as well in a round about fashion. He clearly now that the stronger emotions he experienced or the more pain he suffered the faster the internal flames inside him were stoked. Once the burning sensation within himself became large enough, he saw how it altered both his reasoning and his perception of reality. Thereby, encouraging him to take actions that often forced him to use this burning power within him. He was not yet certain what causing his symptoms of gift to appear and bringing with them additional pain. His best guess was that his every action, even breathing, tapped into the internal fires supplied by his gift. All he knew was that the greater these fires burned inside him, the quicker the symptoms appeared.

Suddenly, he saw all the various parts of his gift and how they conspired together to feed each other. While he could burn this energy off by performing strenuous work, he knew from past experience that was only a temporary measure. His hands began to tremble once he fully understood the incredible ease at which his gift was able to manifest. As his thoughts continued to dwell on this subject he could feel himself shaking and he found breathing difficult. He needed a few minutes to identify what emotion he was currently feeling since he had not felt it such along time.

To his horror, he quickly discovered that even fear was fuel for the growing fires inside him.

He wrapped his arms around himself in attempt to mentally get a hold of himself. While he did not like these revelations, they did provide him with one method of controlling his gift, his emotions. He recalled the book of martial artists and the chapter that dealt with meditation. He could not remember much since he quickly skimmed that particular chapter in the past. What he could bring to mind was an image of a man sitting cross legged with both his hands resting on his knees and the words "breath deep" and "clear your mind". Figuring he had nothing left to lose at this point, he assumed the sitting position he had seen in his mind.

He inhaled slowly and deeply a few times and felt the fear leave him. After a few more breathing cycles, the anger he felt at being afraid left as well. The frustration at being unable to sleep took much longer. However, even with these emotions no longer feeding the fires inside him, they remained constant. He wondered at what he could do to burn off this excess pent-up energy. He had already chopped enough firewood to last the remainder of the season and he felt that he was no condition to hunt, even with his gift. Again, he resumed the breathing cycles and cleared his mind.

The solution to his current problem appeared in the form of yet another chapter of the book about martial artists. This chapter was about how some practitioners strengthened their fists, feet, and even their heads by repeatedly striking layers of paper attached to a stone wall for hours on end. As the extremity toughened, the amount of paper was gradually reduce until the practitioner could punch the stonewall without any protective material at all. Lacking any other productive outlets, he searched his supply of hides for the thickest one and mounted it to the wall of the cave. Then, he adopted a fighting stance and threw a right cross punch at it. There was only a tiny bit of pain in his fist, which he was able to shake off. Again, he adopted the same stance and threw a punch with his left fist. He kept up this routine for several hours. Several times he caught himself becoming frustrated or angry and was forced to sit and clear his mind again. However, he was able to successfully burn off all of the pent-up energy inside himself.

Finally, with raw aching hands, he was able to sleep.


	46. New Lessons

He awoke from the same prophetic dream he had always dreamt whenever he slept too hard. In it, he recalled waking up in the same golden pajamas in the same the golden bed in the same golden room with the same window. As always, he drifted over to it to watched the strange image bearing clouds. Their strange images made no sense narratively, but due to his experiences on this savage world he was starting to identify things in the background of these images that he saw in the clouds that could only be from this world. Which meant, what was in the foreground of the images of these prophetic clouds had to be from the same world as well. Eventually, like all his previous dreams, this one ended with the same trio of strange folk that had been plaguing his thoughts for months now.

As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he thought about his odds of defeating all three of his assailants. He no longer believed such a feat was impossible. Instead, he saw his chances as highly improbable now. Perhaps, he thought, with the right kind of gambit he could gain advantage over these three foes and triumph over them. However, this hopefulness was short lived for he knew that everything depended on what object he was being commanded by the Behemoth to pick up.

To his dismay, The strange fortune telling clouds were still keeping that one item a secret from him.

All too quickly, the various images he saw in his dreams faded from memory and all he was left with were pangs of hunger. He cooked and ate a bit of the meat he had previously hunted for and inspected his glue container. A few gentle test squeezes proved to him that the contents had not solidified into a solid mass yet. This discovery put him in a good mood and he decided to go out for a walk instead of lazing about his mistress's cave all day. He looked through one of cracks around the entrance boulder and saw that afternoon had already arrived due to him sleeping in. Knowing that it was dangerous to leave the cave unarmed, he retrieved his new metal tipped spear and pushed against the entrance boulder.

The pain coming from his still raw hands and the sudden return of the boulder's full mass caused him to stop and try another method of getting past it, leverage. As he inserted it between the cave's walls and the boulder, he noticed the shaft of his new spear was a solid piece of wood and not a just branch off a tree like his old one. The amount of stiffness and resilience it demonstrated as he slowly budged the boulder away from the entrance impressed him. After thinking about it little bit, he realized that his new spear's qualities made a lot sense since it was meant to be used by a being who had several times a human's strength. That thought lead him to ponder the properties of his mistress's sword as he continued to struggle out the cave.

With a final push, he emerged into the afternoon light of the red sun and quickly noticed the shadows were getting longer. He visited the dew pond for a quick drink and then set off into the woods for a bit of a walk. Although he was not hunting, he kept his guard up and his eyes and ears open as he wandered the woods around his mistress's cave. The sights and sounds of the diurnal creatures getting ready for the coming night filled his senses. As the hours passed, the shadow continued to stretch and merge with each other creating an patchwork of lit and unlit areas under the trees.

He soon detected the quiet movements of something trailing him. He had a good idea of who it was, but he decided to test this theory by deliberately walking into the more lit areas in the forest. Behind him, he heard his stalker route around light areas and resume its following. Its reaction to light confirmed his suspicions and he decided that since he needed a new skinning knife, he would pay a visit to the nearest deposit of obsidian and demonstrate how to make one to his protege.

Despite quickening his pace, his ears revealed to him that the feral child never once gave up its pursuit of him.

After an half an hour travel, he arrived at a oddly gouged out crevice littered with black and glass like stones. He gave this obsidian surface deposit a quick search in the hope that the weather had freed more of the volcanic glass since his last visit. But, all he could find were chunks that were too small to be useful. Undaunted, he examined the partially exposed pieces of obsidian for suitable chunk to excavate. Using sticks and and whatever else was near, he carefully removed the hardened dirt from the obsidian he desired. As he performed this task, he feel the eyes of feral child on him again. He resisted the urge to look at the feral child, fearing that action might drive it off again. Instead, he continued digging out the chunk of obsidian.

He finally stopped clearing the dirt away from the chunk of obsidian when his excavation reveal the obsidian he was digging out was a part of a much larger piece that would require earth moving equipment to free. Unfazed by this development, he searched for and found a rock he could use as chisel and another one to use as a hammer. Then, he placed the tip of his improvised chisel at the spot where the chunk of obsidian that he wanted joined the larger, but still buried portion. With each strike of the hammer stone, he gradually reduced the material that was joining the two obsidian pieces together until a tiny amount remained. He gave the desired chunk of obsidian a few gentle taps and broke it free.

He pulled the chunk of obsidian out of the hole he had dug around it and held it on the toughest portion of his hide trousers. Then, with a small stone, he began carefully striking flakes off the piece of obsidian. He demonstrated all the various techniques he had learned working with the sometimes dangerously sharp volcanic glass for the feral child's benefit. Once the chunk had assumed its final shape, he let out an excited yell. Only then, did he notice that the night was almost upon him. He picked up his new spear and the blade of his new skinning knife and left with some haste. Only to stop when his curiosity compelled him to sneak back to see if his lesson managed to stick in the mind of the feral child.

As he neared, he could hear the familiar tapping of sound of one rock being used to hammer another. He stepped off the path he used leave this place and started stealthily approaching the noise through the undergrowth. Peering through some tall grasses, he saw the feral child was hunched over and picking through the flakes and smaller chunks of obsidian. Every so often, the child would become excited over a small piece of volcanic glass. Then, the feral child would grab a stone, raise it, smash it downwards onto the obsidian. Once the child saw what only remained was a small pile shards, it became disheartened.

He was forced to bite his lower lip as he struggled to control himself. The frustration he felt while suppressing urge to repeat the demonstration of proper obsidian shaping technique was powerful enough to ignite the internal fires of his gift. Realizing he was becoming too worked up, he cleared his mind of such emotions, but he still found it difficult to observe the feral child's continued failures even with his calmed mind. His desire to have this child succeed proved quite strong and he again fought the urge to rush out of his hiding space and show the feral child what it was doing wrong. Hearing the child's increasing anger did not make this heart breaking scene any more bearable for himself either. However, he knew deep down that there was nothing more he could do for the feral child, but keep hoping it would learn on its own, somehow.

A single tear ran down his cheek when the awareness came to him that he had put his mistress through this particular situation many times.

A sudden frustrated scream emanating from the feral child brought him back to reality. Suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck rose as he recognized a certain tone in the scream. He knew it meant that child was now calling upon its people's gift of hate fueled strength. Looking through the tall grass again, he saw the child had in its hands on a small chunk of obsidian. Again, he heard the feral child scream once more and to his amazement he saw the child start to twist the obsidian with its bare hands and eventually caused a portion of it to flake off. Astonished, he continued to observe the feral child as it examined the new edge on the piece of obsidian and then flip the now slightly smaller piece of obsidian around and started twisting and screaming again. After another piece of obsidian had flaked off, he watched as the feral child examined the new point it had created.

Pride began to well up inside him at the sight of it. While it was not the prettiest or finely crafted tool ever made, he could tell by looking at the feral child's creation that it was certainly functional. He decided turned to go back to the cave since the night had fallen, but he peered through the tall grass one final time before leaving. He saw that the feral child was now stripping a short tree branch of its excess side branches. Once most of them were removed, he watched the child place the sharp pointed piece of obsidian into the foremost "y" on the branch and began tying it there with some vines. Upon seeing the crude little spear, he wondered what type of the feral child would be hunting with it since it appeared to lack sufficient length. That line of questioning was quickly ended when he recalled the feral child's home under the stump and the ambush beast that was trying to drag the child out earlier.

He grinned when he realized this was not a hunting weapon, but one meant for home defense.

He stopped his observation of the strange folk child and began his return to his mistress's cave. He traveled as quickly as he could during the night hours. Once he returned to the cave, he changed his destination to the dew pond. First, he drank his fill. Then, he spent a few hours gazing at the stars in the night sky. Although the constellations he saw were completely alien to him that did not stop him from coming up with names for some. Most, he named after the weapons that they resembled. Others, he named after the beasts of this world. Once he had finished making up names for the formations he saw, he left the dew pond and returned to the cave.

The entrance blocking boulder posed some challenge due to his still sore hands, but with the leverage provided by his new spear it was eventually moved far enough to allow him access to his mistress's cave. However, as soon as he entered, he started to feel hungry again. While he did not think the feral child would ever come around again, he decided to put the cave's security first. He ignored his grumbling stomach and wrestled the entrance blocking boulder back into place. Then, he took a short break before getting a fire going, cooking his next meal, and consuming it.

As he chewed his last mouthful, he examined his "glue skin" again. The adhesive he had previously applied to its stitching had hardened during the time he was out of the cave. Furthermore, as he massaged the adhesive receptacle, the internal contents of it were still pliable. Happy with his results thus far, he decided to begin stress testing the "glue skin". A few test drops onto the floor later, he was convinced that his creation would last for some time before needing replacement.

With one project finished, he immediately moved onto the next one, his new skinning knife. He went through his pile of stuff for a femur he had been saving for such a project since its shape was already near perfect fit for his hand. The round ball on the end of it where it would fit into the hip of whatever creature she had taken the leg from was both dense and hard enough to crack nuts and beetle shells with. Furthermore, there was little more he needed to do to it since his mistress long ago sucked out all the marrow from inside it. All that he needed to do to it was saw off the broken end of the femur's shaft, cut a groove in it so it could hold the blade of his obsidian knife, glue it together, and wait.

He made the necessary alterations using his mistress's tools. While he could make do with his collection of bone, wood, and stone tools, he found the metal versions to be more precise and reliable than their natural counterparts. After all of the modifications were made, checked, adjusted, and rechecked, he retrieved his "glue skin" and removed the bone plug from it. Next, he carefully squeezed it until a thick drop was forced out of the end of his adhesive receptacle. He turned his "glue skin" in every direction in attempt to dislodge the nearly solid ball of adhesive, but the congealed glue refused to let go. Feeling a little frustrated, he applied the small amount against the groove in the femur and spread it around with a small stick. Once he was finished with the stick, he tossed it into the dying cooking fire. There, it seemed to explode into a bright light that quickly faded.

Once he got over the light show he accidentally created, he joined the obsidian blade to its new handle and put the resulting knife away where the glue could fully cure. Feeling he was on roll, he started to work on his third project of the night, a proper water skin. He knew from prior experimentation that the spider adhesive and water did not mix. By exploiting this, he hoped to avoid any unwanted flavors invading his stored water. Again, he searched his stockpile of hides and picked one that seemed to have the best combination of durability, weight, and was free of any puncture wounds. His newest idea was to put a layer of glue on the hide and when it was about to harden fully, he would stitch the glue soaked hide into its final shape.

He quickly ran into a problem right away. Whenever he squeezed the "glue skin" the adhesive refused to come out in any other form except for its current paste like consistency. He tried breathing on it, but that only melted the outside layers of the pasty drop liquefy. He continued to experiment with various methods of warming his adhesive receptacle, but all he succeeded in doing was frustrating himself further. Having exhausted all other options, he resorted to warming his "glue skin" directly over the dying embers of his cooking fire.

A single stray cinder was all it took for him to drop the vessel filled with incredibly flammable adhesive into the last embers of the cooking fire. Time seemed to come to near halt as he dove into the corridor that linked the cave's two chamber together. When he finally landed, he began madly scrambling his way down the dark corridor in the hopes he could avoid the napalm fueled inferno that he was certain was about to engulf him. A few moments later, he noticed a sudden increase in the ambient light level, but it was not the bright flash he predicted. Nor, was there any change in the amount of heat he was sensing and all he could hear as a faint hiss. He picked himself up and returned to the main chamber of the cave to investigate. In the fireplace, he found the source of the hissing.

There was a small, but steady white flame now being emitted by his "glue skin"!


	47. Old habits

With shaking hands, he reached into the dying embers of the cooking fire for his adhesive receptacle. But, he hesitated at the last moment as his mind wrestled with two unappealing possibilities: being burned versus standing next to a time bomb not knowing when it will go off. He fought through his indecisiveness and began trying various methods of reaching his "glue skin". After several attempts, he discovered he could just barely pinch the adhesive receptacle by one corner without the getting burned. With a shout, he yanked his "glue skin" from the fire and inadvertently squeezed out a portion of its contents as it flew through the cave. He saw a huge gout of white flame just before he became blinded by the sight of it.

He staggered backwards into the corridor the connected the two chambers of his mistress's cave. Once his recovered his sight, he returned to the main chamber to investigate. To his relief, he discovered the only flames in the chamber belonged to his cooking fire and the little white flame still issuing from his "glue skin". He walked over to where it had landed and began to poke at it. As far as he could determine, its contents were only a little less viscous due to their warming and the outside of the "glue skin" was scorched in several places, especially around the opening. He became curious about the large white flame that blinded him and gave his adhesive receptacle a gentle squeeze. As he expected before the white flame temporary grew in both size and brightness then diminished. Quickly, he formed a hypothesis that it was the lack of oxygen caused by the narrow opening of his "glue skin" that prevented the explosion of its flammable contents. To test his theory, he tightly pinched off the opening of his adhesive receptacle.

The little white flame died and did not come back when he relaxed his fingers.

Feeling safer around his creation, he careful picked it up and gave it a more thorough examination. It seemed to be in great condition, despite its recent trial by fire. He decided to repeat the entire experience as an experiment, but with additional safety protocols. First, he stacked some rocks into a crude knee high wall and placed his "glue skin" the other side of it. Then, he lit a small stick and slowly poked it into the adhesive receptacle's opening. Immediately, the white flame returned only to be snuffed out with a pinch.

He repeated this experiment several times until he was absolutely certain that he could control this new form of lighting. Once he was confident enough, he took his new lantern down the corridor and into the back chamber. To his delight, the little white flame illuminated the back chamber wonderfully. Despite having been in this chamber many times before, he found the way the colors on the walls seemed to jump out at him impressive. As he spent a few minutes examining the walls with this new bright and steady light source, what he saw caused him to wonder if this was how the strange folk saw their world. Once his curiosity was satisfied, he returned to the center of the chamber to perform one last experiment.

He placed the lit "glue skin" on the floor and stood near it. Then, he began to breathe deeply while carefully monitoring himself for any indications of oxygen deprivation. He found the acrid smoke emitted by the white flame to be unpleasant, but tolerable. After several minutes, he noticed that he was not experiencing any warning signs that meant he should leave the chamber. He waited for a bit more before picking up his adhesive receptacle, just to be sure. Then, he snuffed out the little white flame coming from it and returned to the main chamber. He carefully looked at his "glue skin" a second time and noticed the scorch marks around its opening had gotten worse.

Taking this damage as sign that he needed to find both a fireproof vessel for a proper lantern, he dug through his slowly growing collection of bones, hides, and whatsits for the skulls of the strange folk he managed to keep hidden from his mistress. One by one, he assessed each skull for its suitability in his newest project. He discovered most had deformities that rendered them useless for his purposes and others had horns that were in the wrong places or the wrong shape for them to rest on the ground without tipping over to one side. In the end, he picked a particularly small skull for his upcoming project. He found its small size and light weight would make carrying it around easy and its horns, after some filing, allowed it to remain stable when placed the skull on the ground.

The only thing he had left to do was find a way to restrict the air supply to the flammable adhesive he was going to put into it.

He closed his eyes and went through his mental catalog of materials that were fire resistant. He felt a knot form in his stomach when he remembered the dragon scales that he and his mistress had collected together. Recalling that she had sorted all the scales into two piles, one for trade and another for junk. He briefly thought of the single pristine dragon scale his mistress had claimed as her own person treasure. But, he quickly abandoned idea of using that particular scale as a lid for his skull based lantern. He thought things over some more and realized that he never saw what his mistress did with the rejected scales. If she followed her usual garbage dumping habits, he speculated, then he might be able to find where she dumped them since the scales were not made from edible materials and the local wildlife should not be interested in them.

He felt hope well up inside him at the possibility of finding even one of the reject scales, then felt it begin to die as he recalled that he could just barely see the scales at night and with only the aid of dragon fire. Suddenly, the hopeful feeling as he realized the scales responded not just to dragon fire, but the light of the cooking fire as well, although not as vividly. But, the feeling waned again when he recalled that his torches did not have a long enough life to make a proper search of even a quarter of the various dumping sites his mistress favored. With one look at his "glue skin" the feeling of hope returned even stronger than ever.

He already had something far better than any torch or dragon!

Despite the sleepiness in his eyes, he got ready for a night excursion and pushed the entrance boulder out of his way. Then, he tied his "glue skin" to the metal end of his spear and lit the crude lantern. As he stepped out of the cave, the illumination produced by his light source gave the ground an unnatural glow as he walked and in the far-off distance he saw dozens of eyes staring back at him. Despite knowing what he was seeing was the reflective membrane of the various night beasts, he felt a little uneasy drawing much so much attention to himself. He shook off the feeling and concentrating where he last found the disposed bones and other inedible debris dumped by his mistress. Chuckling to himself as he made his way towards the nearest disposal site, he knew it was his habit of picking through the garbage for useful bits that drove his mistress into making these clandestine garbage sites.

He found nothing at the first site and as he made his way to of all the other sites near the cave, but he did not have any luck. Even roughing up the ground and digging into the piles failed to reveal anything that sparkled in his lantern's light. There was a part of him that wanted to go back to the cave, but the hopeful feeling he was experiencing refused to die and forced him to keep looking. With some trepidation, he lowered the lantern on his spear and stepped into the woods that surrounded his mistress's cave. He quickly noticed that the closer eyes that were staring at him disappeared at his approach. He was thankful that none of their shapes matched any of the really ferocious predatory beasts, especially the kind with two legs.

He kept up his trek through the woods and marveled at how much harder it was for him to travel at night with a light source than without. His best guess was that he had simple gotten used to navigating while half blind. However with his lantern, he discovered that every branch and bush seemed to get in his way. Soon, he felt his frustration feeding his internal fires again. He stopped and cleared his mind and thought about what he could to solve his current situation.

The solution to this problem took awhile to come to him and when it did, he placed the palm of his over his face. Then, he snuffed out the white flame of his lantern and waited for his eyes to adjust to the night. Once they did, what was once a nearly solid black wall just beyond the circle of light created by his lantern, became a sea of shifting grays and blacks. With this additional information reaching his eyes, his rate of travel increased immensely and all the staring eyes stopped looking at him.

Once he arrived at the distant dump site, he created a small fire and used it to relight the lantern on his spear. Then, he stuck his spear into the ground so that "glue skin" lantern was well positioned above him to provide light for his search. He looked around and identified a few mounds what appeared to him to be likely candidates for excavation. The first and second yielded their usual bone fragments and worn out articles of clothing. However, upon sticking his fingers into the third mound, he felt a hide bag!

He quickly tore into this container and scattered its contents all over the ground. Looking down, he was not sure if the small objects beneath him were shimmering from the light or if he was suffering from mild hallucinations that the lack of sleep brings. In either case, he figured a quick test was in order. He carefully got hold of his "glue skin" lantern, aimed its opening away from anything combustible, looked away from predicted blast, and gave his lantern a good squeeze. Under the intense light of the resulting blast, he saw nothing on the ground below him sparkle. Instead, the small objects began to move!

Whatever these small objects were, he now knew that they were not dragon scales. He cursed himself as he struggled to think of any other dump sites his mistress might have used, but none came to mind. Again, he felt the urge to return to the cave. While a part of him wanted to all the way out to where he saw the dragons for the first time, he decided that he could search better with a good night's sleep and reluctantly snuff out the light of his lantern. He found the noises of the nighttime beasts a little unnerving as he waited for his vision to adapt to the darkness. Once he could see again, he started journey back to his mistress's cave.

As he walked, he mentally reviewed his initial design of his skull based lantern and thought about other materials he could use as a lid. Clay or mud was option, but he knew little of ceramics and baking kilns. Another option was to carve a lid out of a shoulder blade or another flat bone. The new ideas kept on coming with every step and by the time he arrived at the cave, his head was starting to throb. He walked inside the cave and blocked the entrance since he planned to sleep right away. However after lying on the ground for a few minutes, the faint burning he felt within himself refused to allow him to rest.

He looked at the hide on the wall he had used for punching and stood up to give it some more. Just as he was about to throw his first punch, he looked down the corridor that led into the back chamber. While he previously decided that he was not going to steal his mistress prized dragon scale, he thought that there might others she had decided to keep as well. If that was the case, he reasoned, then maybe she would not notice if one went missing. He lit his "glue skin" lantern one more time and headed into the back chamber.

With the aide of his lantern, he searched the back room completely from ceiling to the floor. He discovered nothing more than what he had found from before. Letting a heavy sigh, he knew there was one last place that his mistress kept her most private belongings hid. He ran his hand along the walls until he found the one slab of stone that was sticking out just bit more than the others and pulled it carefully away from the wall. Then, he reached into his mistress's secret stash with his lantern. The two strange kettles from before were still there, but in the corner he saw a familiar looking bag. He grabbed it and pulled it into the back chamber and brought the light from his lantern closer to it.

The contents of the bag sparkled as if they were jewels.

He staggered backwards both from the intense light show he just saw and the question of how his mistress managed to keep all these dragon scales for herself. He reached into the bag and began sorting the scales he pulled out of it. As he sorted each scale based on their size, he replayed the "bargaining session" between his mistress and the false merchant. Thinking back further, he recalled that he had not bothered to look into any of the bags that were in the large pack he wore. Furthermore, he remembered that while his mistress was stuck in the strange bargaining loop with the false merchant, she always added the scales to pile of offered goods by placing them next to the hides so they were shielded from the cooking fire's light. As he already knew, without a proper light source the tarnished dragon scales are impossible to detect from their more impressive counterparts. Suddenly, big grin appeared on his face once he realized what his mistress had managed to do to the false merchant.

She had pulled a scam!


	48. Light and Darkness

After he had sorted all of the dragon scales based on their size and shape, he left the chamber and returned with the skull he intended for his lantern and sat down next to his "glue skin" lantern again. Excited, he started placing the scales over the vacated spinal column opening of the upside-down skull. Despite going through his mistress's entire supply, he only found a handful of scales that fit the opening. He hoped that these scales were going to be enough as he refilled the bag with the rejected dragon scales. Once he finished with the bag, he returned it to his mistress's stash and placed the slab of stone back into its place. Then, he returned to the main chamber with the materials he needed for his project.

Once back in the main chamber, he snuffed out the white flame emitted by his "glue skin" and got a good fire going in the fireplace. He examined the small skull again. In the light of the cooking fire, he could see numerous lines running all over the skull where the various boney plates fused together. These superficial cracks in the skull's surface and both the nasal and ocular cavities made him wonder if it was truly airtight. He thought about methods of finding out if and got the idea of submerging the small skull in water to see if bubbles escaped from it. However, sleepiness and weariness convinced him to try an easier method. He reluctantly raised the skull to his mouth and formed a seal with his lips around the opening for the skull's lost spinal cord and blew into the skull. With his hands, he was able to find two minor leaks where the skull's eyes and nose used to be.

He set the skull down and thought about how could he seal these cracks. After looking at the stitches of his adhesive receptacle for inspiration, he noticed that the glue that had cured on them showed no signs of having come aflame during the short fiery trip the "glue skin" made into the cooking fire. The idea of plugging the ocular and nasal cavities with the glue intrigued him even if it would mean he would have to wait a day or more to make further progress on his lantern project.

Suddenly, a memory about pitch and how it was made inspired him to consider using heat to speed the adhesive's rate of curing. He quickly retrieved his mistress's metal pot and placed it on the cooking fire without any water. Then, he squeezed a significant amount of his remaining reserves of the spider silk adhesive into the pot and watched as it loosened up, melted, and started to bubble. Upon seeing these bubbles he leaned over the metal pot and smelled the volatile chemicals boiling out of the glue. Despite the instant headache he suffered, he was pleased by this result. Once the adhesive in the pot had been reduced to half of its volume, he dipped one of a stick into the dark resin and tried to get it to light on fire with only marginal success. He was pleased with these results and reduced the ever-thickening puddle of dark fluid in the bottom of pot to one quarter of its original volume.

When he tried to ignite the new substance this time, it refused to burn!

These results were precisely what he was looking for and he quickly removed the pot from the fire and began stirring the dark resin hoping it would still thicken like the adhesive did when it cooled. It did not take long for him to notice the increasing viscosity of the dark resin as the heat left it. Ecstatic, he placed the metal pot back on the cooking fire and brought the small skull to it. Carefully, he tilted the metal pot and drained the barely flowing resin into the nasal passages and eye sockets of the small skull. Then, he set the skull against the wall so the dark resin could not drain out of it while he began the hours long task of cleaning the metal pot.

By the time he had finished cleaning the pot, he was good and tired. Despite this growing need, he continued with his current project. He examined the small skull again and carefully peered into both its ocular and nasal cavities and was quite happy with what he saw. As an experiment, he placed his fingers directly onto the now cooled dark resin and held them there for several seconds. He smiled when the resin did not soften from his body heat and when he repeated the test for several more minutes, the resin still remained firm. His testing convinced him that the resin would not melt when it was exposed to the white flame's heat and he decided to administer the final test. Again, he raised the skull to his face and formed a seal around its opening for its missing spinal column and blew.

The small skull was finally air tight!

After nearly blowing out his eardrums, he turned his attention to the dragon scales. He experimented in a similar fashion with the skull and the dragon scales to determine which ones possessed the best sealing ability among them. Knowing the scales were very brittle, he saved the best one for last and hoped he did not need to use it. Instead, he started with the worst sealing dragon scale and placed it in his hand. As he thought of various ways of shaping the tiny brittle thing, he ran his fingertips all over it.

The rough and uneven contours of the dragon scale gave him the idea to try his mistress's file to even the surface of the scale. With his first stroke against the dragon scale, he felt it shatter. This development did not bother him, in fact, he expected this result. He carefully gathered the larger pieces of the destroyed scale and began experimenting on them to discover in what ways they were alterable and learned that the dragon scales possessed many properties that belonged to crystal formations and lizard scales. Armed with this knowledge, he intentionally destroyed the next three scales to test the dragon scales' limits.

His attempts at shaping the next two scales into lids for his skull lantern appeared to have better luck, at first glance. But, when it came time to test his dragon scale lids, he saw the white flame escaping from all around the sides of the dragon scale. His further attempts to get the scales to seal against the skull's opening resulted in the scales shattering. He briefly considered using more of the dark resin to guarantee a proper seal, but wondered if direct contact with the white flame would soften the resin and cause it to adhere to the dragon scale. The thought of shattering a scale each time he wanted to refuel his lantern dissuaded himself from pursuing that plan.

Down to his last two attempts, he tried a different technique. Drawing on his experiences with creating tools from obsidian and stone, he decided to be gentle as possible with the scales and only use the smallest mount force that would produce a change. He worked as slowly as possible and gradually wore away the irregular surface of the dragon scale he was shaping until it felt smooth to his touch. Then, he tested the newly smoothed scale lid against the ignited contents of his skull lantern and became very pleased when it completely snuffed out the uncontrolled white flame! Happy that he was finally finished with his project, he wrapped a hide string around the skull lantern and tied a knot directly above the scale lid. As he pulled on both ends of the string to tighten the knot, he heard a faint cracking noise.

He looked down at his project and felt the hope and happiness he had been experiencing suddenly give way to something far worse.

His heart pounded as he clenched his teeth together and he barely suppressed the urge to scream. Worse of all, he sensed the internal fires with himself were building at an alarming pace. Cursing his own foolishness, he grabbed the skull lantern with one hand and raised it up in preparation to throw it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something sparkle as it fell from the skull lantern. At that moment, he felt another thought pop into his head. It told him to take a second look at his project. Grudgingly, he did.

The scale that he worked so hard on was not completely shattered. Instead, it only had a decent sized wedge missing from it and the resulting hole was large enough for him to refuel the lantern. Upon seeing that all of his hard work was not completely wasted, he cleared his mind and felt the inner fires inside him cease their steady increase. Carefully, he lit the remaining fuel in the skull and saw that the white flame still was controlled, but was a lot larger than he needed.

He wondered how he was going to control the white flame with the damaged dragon scale. Turning his gaze away from the intense sparkling light display of his lantern lid, his eyes fell upon the last dragon scale he had left. Instantly, got an idea and carefully untied the knot that secured the lid against the skull while avoiding getting burned by the white flame the skull lantern was emitting. Once it was loose enough, he slowly slipped the last dragon scale over the one serving as a lid. As he did so, he saw the white flame diminish as its air supply was reduced until it appeared to die completely. He then pulled back the unmodified dragon scale from the other and let out a sigh of relief that the white flame stayed extinguished!

The skull lantern was complete!

As much as he wanted to fall asleep at that very moment, he knew the burning sensation within himself would prevent him from doing so. Aware that he was going to awake for a few more hours, he looked at his skull lantern and wondered how long could it burn with a full supply of fuel. He fetch the "glue skin" again and squeezed most of his remain supply of adhesive through the gap in the broken dragon scale and into the upside down skull. Then, he lit it and regulated the white flame that emerged from it with the second dragon scale until the flame produced just the right amount of light for him to see the complete interior of his mistress's cave.

With everything else finished, he stood up and walked over to the hide on the wall. He made fists with his hands in preparation, but stopped before throwing the first punch. From the back of his mind, he recalled that he had little meat left to eat and that he wanted to go hunt tomorrow. He quickly understood that if he injured his hands like the last time, he would not be able to do so. After a few moments of quiet thought, he adjusted his stance so that he could begin kicking the thick hide on the cave wall. He stopped before doing so again and realized that if he hurt his feet, then he would not be able to run, climb, or jump as well while hunting. He went on to consider using his elbows and knees, but the need to be in top physical condition so that he would be able to hunt prevented him from those parts of anatomy to burn off his pent-up energy.

Succumbing to frustration, he thumped his forehead against the thick hide on the wall a few times.

When he made his fifth cranial collision with the hide, he finally realized he had one part of his body that would not affect the next day's hunting. He adjusted his stance as if he was in battle with his mistress and reared his back and brought it forwards against the hide on the cave wall. The amount of stars that flooded his vision convinced him to use a little less force. Through trail and error, he found the precise amount of force to use. He continued to monitor his internal fires as he bashed his head against the hide covered wall. Whenever he found them to be increasing, a quick look at the skull lantern he had created always put him back into a chipper mood. He did not know why it was, but something about his macabre creation made him smile.

Hours passed before he had completely expended all of the energy trapped inside him. As he rested on the ground waiting for sleep to claim him, he started thinking about recent events, especially the sudden burst of anger he experienced earlier when he thought he had ruined the lid for his skull lantern. Unlike the events involving the feral child, there was no strange commands being forced into his head. He briefly wondered if that intense feeling was a sign of him developing some sort of psychosis or was he becoming more like his mistress and that he needed someone to fight and spar with. He was not able to come to any conclusions and decided to watch the sparkling light show coming from the dragon scales on his skull lantern. As sleep came to him, he noticed the dancing lights seemed to be dimming.

He awoke with an awful headache and for a few brief moments, he thought he was suffering the effects of oxygen deprivation again. Until, he recall bashing his head against the wall for hours last night. He looked at his skull lantern and noticed it had gone out. Curious, he got up, walked over to it, and picked it up. Although the lantern no longer had the white flame coming out of it, he still could feel that it still retained a bit warmth. Based on this evidence, he figured the skull lantern burned longer than the cooking fire. He became happy with this result and placed his newest light source among his growing pile of possessions.

He got ready for his hunt and decided to use his new metal tipped spear. As he pushed his way pass the entrance boulder, he noticed it moved with a bit more ease than the last time. He emerged from the cave and looked up at the red sun and realized that he had slept through most of the day and nightfall was not far away. Shaking his head, he put the entrance boulder back and set off on his hunt. On his journey away from his mistress's cave, he kept seeing small spatters of blood here and there. It was not until he saw the carcass of a small lizard missing its skin that he was able figure out what was going on. Through the pain of his headache, he felt a bit pride as he realized what he was seeing was the handiwork of the feral child of the stump. Based on everything he saw, the feral child had abandoned its habit of scavenging.

Now, it was hunting!


	49. Measurements

Due to how unfamiliar his new metal tipped spear felt in his hands, he decided begin his hunt by targeting the smaller beasts first. With each kill he made, the new spear slowly felt more and more like it belonged in his hands and he soon came to appreciate the nearly perfect roundness of its shaft over the contrast of his older spear. By using his kills as bait, he slowly worked his way up the local region's food chain over the course of the night and once he worked his way up to the beasts that were his size, he discovered the added mass of his new spear was a mixed blessing. While the metal tipped spear easily penetrated the hides and carapaces of the larger beasts, its increased mass made correcting his errors more difficult as well.

On several occasions during his hunt he failed to kill his prey with his first strike and as a result, he would find himself in a nasty confrontation with the wounded beast. He resorted to all kinds of tricks to deal with his enraged prey and most of the time he was able to end these life-and-death struggles by getting the wounded beasts to charge towards him and onto the metal point of his new spear. Thus using the enraged beasts' momentum to force the metal point of his new spear deep into their own body until the impaled beasts were completely stopped by two side spikes of his spear. During these tense moments, he noticed his new spear never showed any signs of warping or bending, despite the incredible loads placed upon it by the last frantic moments of his prey. He quickly learned that his new spear's greatest feature was not its metallic point, but rather its robust construction.

He stopped his hunt when he realized that he was starting to become burdened by the amount of hides he had collected. With his final kill, he butchered and packaged enough meat for him to eat for the next few days. Then, he returned to his mistress's cave. Back inside, he added the hides from this hunt to the others in his possession. Then, he cooked a meal and sweated out the glue from what was left of his spider silk supplies. He noticed that the resulting adhesive barely filled his "glue skin" and he made a mental note to pay the funnel web dweller another visit soon.

Once the humidity in the cave returned to tolerable levels, he refueled and lit his skull lantern. He then gathered up his writing supplies and entered the corridor that led to the second chamber. After adjusting the white flame coming from his skull lantern so that he could see the entirety of the map wall, he sat down and rolled out the pure white hide he had been saving for this project. At first, he was unable to make a single mark as the question of where to even start weighed heavily in his mind. He gave the matter some thought and decided to begin where he first appeared on this strange world.

Near the volcano.

He focused his attention on the upside-down "v" with smoke coming out of it and then let the region around it come into his focus. After studying the formations and symbols, he repeated expanding his focus until he got a good sense of the overall rectangular shape of the land mass depicted on the wall. He looked at the pure white hide on the ground and noticed it was roughly oblong in shape. After thinking some more, he came to the realization that he was completely lacking any basic drafting tools.

He picked up his skull lantern and returned to the main chamber of his mistress's cave to search for anything that could serve as a ruler. He soon became frustrated again as he was unable to find anything that possessed a straight edge or the means to produce one. The natural materials at his disposal were full of knots and other irregularities and thus were unsuitable. Doing his best to keep himself under control, he pondered how ancient man created the first tool for measurement. He suddenly stopped his thinking once he remembered that he knew of two items that already possessed straight lines.

One was his mistress's sword, the other was his new spear!

Since his mistress and her sword were unavailable, he picked up to his new spear and carefully looked down its shaft to see if it was truly straight. Except for a few odd notches in it, the metal tipped spear's shaft appeared to him to be flawlessly straight. This observation made him wonder that the shaft of his new spear was a product of machine work and not of some master craftsman's tireless efforts. As he ran his hands up and down the metal tipped spear's shaft, he could not detect any trace of cutting with hand tools. He spent few minutes examining the notches in his new spear's shaft and speculated that the previous owner of this spear had parried few blows with this weapon.

Convinced he had something that was straight, he grabbed a small piece of fire wood and trimmed it down until it was of equal length to the metal tip of his new spear. He had always been curious about the lengths of both the tip and shaft of his new spear and decided that now was as good of a time to find out their measurements. He knew from measurements taken before he came to this world that distance from his wrist to his elbow was almost a foot. By holding the measurement stick against his forearm, he became certain that the metal tip on his spear was also a foot in length.

He took a moment to reexamine his foot long measuring stick. While its edge was completely worthless as a straight edge, he thought with a bit of extra effort he could add additional markings on it at the half a foot and quarter a foot spots. After quick search through the fire woodpiles, he found a piece of wood that was exactly half as long as his foot long measuring stick and by using it, he marked the middle of his measuring stick. By repeating this exercise a second time, he found another piece of kindling that was a quarter of the length of his foot long measuring stick. With it, he was able to find and mark the quarter foot and three quarters foot positions on his measuring stick easily.

Suddenly, he became curious of his own height. He quickly stood up, kicked off his boots, planted the butt of his new spear between his feet, and tried his best to keep his new spear perfectly vertical. The top of his head came even with the spot where the metal tip of his new spear attached to its shaft. Remembering that his previously recorded height was five feet and ten and a half inches, he sat down and began counting marking off one foot segments on his new spear in his own marking solution of spit and soot and reached the end of its shaft on his sixth count. Taking this measurement into account, he knew that his new spear was seven feet long and that he had grown an inch and a half since coming to this world. This matched what he remembered of his first few seasons with his mistress. Back then, he was always looking up at her. But now, he could look her in the eye. This realization forced him to accept that he was not just surviving on this strange world.

He was thriving!

He was quiet for a moment as he let that last thought echo throughout his mind. While his rate of growth was not out of bounds for a young man such as himself, the amount of height he had gained since coming to this world was roughly equal to the amount he had grown between the ages of fifteen and sixteen. Based on all the health books he had read, he should be almost finished with growing. He began to wonder if there was something on this strange world that was altering him on a more subtle level. While he did not mind growing taller, he wished that he could have done so without the increasingly violent tendencies he had been developing over time. The fresh food he had been eating, the clean air he breathed, and even the red sun that shone down from above were all suspects to him based upon his extensive comic book knowledge. As he continued to search for the source of his body's vigor and his mind's growing fiery temperament, he came to one item he had previously overlooked when he made his initial list.

The alien honey.

A chilled ran through him as he pondered this last minute addition. Based on what he had read in the past, there were several plants on Earth if honeybees collected pollen from would cause the resulting honey to become poisonous or even maddening. He could not deny that whenever consumed some of the alien honey he felt awakened. Exactly what part of himself was being awakened he could not answer. Since he did not know what were the long term effects of the alien honey were, he resolved to avoid consuming anymore of it even if it meant no more barbeque sauce.

He ceased thinking about and began contemplating about his mistress and her people. He stood up and began measuring the ceiling of the main chamber in various places. His poking and prodding revealed that the ceiling was uniformly ten feet from the floor. He became unnerved for a moment while he considered the possibility of nine foot tall strange folk, then he recalled the diversity of shapes and sizes the horns on the heads of the strange folk he saw while at the communal camp. Quickly, he understood the reason of having such a high ceiling. He continued his measurements as he traveled down the corridor towards the back room and discovered that its ceiling was the same as the main chamber's.

Back in the rear chamber, he carefully measured the map wall with his new spear. While he found the wall to be a little less than three spear lengths wide, the actual map mural was a bit smaller than the wall due to depictions of a vast ocean surrounding the landmass. The light still coming from his skull lantern negated the need for him to probe the ceiling again as he could easily see where the top of the map wall meet the ceiling. With all these observations, he estimated that the map on the wall would easily fit into to a twenty foot by ten foot rectangle. He sat near the pure white hide on the floor and began planning out his map. After much measuring and remeasuring, he found a place on the pure white hide that a one foot by two rectangle would barely fit. He picked the corner of the map that the volcano was closest to and started marking the borders of the reduced map onto the pure white hide using the shaft of his new spear.

Then, after carefully measuring the volcano's position on the wall map, he added a smaller one its relative place on his hide map.

He spent a few more hours slowly copying the area around the volcano wall map onto the map hide before deciding it was time for some sleep. As he dimmed the light from his skull lamp, he searched inside himself and discovered that he had some pent-up energy still remaining. At first he was mystified that he did not notice it was building up while hunting. But, he waved off this oddity as him being too focused on hunting to notice. He took his skull lantern with him as he left the back chamber and snuffed out its light when he returned to the main chamber. Then, he set his skull lantern down and took up a fighting stance next to the thick hide on the wall. After a few deep breaths, he began to punch it. Once the burning energies within him were spent, he went to sleep.

The next few days were uneventful. He spent his time slowly copying the map, star gazing, and practicing with his weapons. Even with these tasks, he still faced long hours where there was nothing to do. It was during these moments he often thought of his mistress where she was going. Even though he knew it was folly, he tried figuring out the answers to these questions by investigating the wall map. He had a good clue of the map's scale due to his personal travels into the regions surrounding his mistress's cave and how incredibly fast she could travel when she did not have him slowing her down. According to what he saw on the map wall, there was a lot of nothing around the volcano. However, there was what appeared a major road just beyond that nothing. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head.

He knew it was stupid idea the instant he conceived of it. But as the days went by, he found himself becoming more and more obsessed with the idea of seeing an actual road or something else that truly proved that there was some sort of civilization on this world. Based on the distances between his mistress's cave and what he believed was a road, the trip would be so long that it would require him to sleep in a few of the many refuges that dotted the wall map just to get to the road, if it existed. That in turn would expose him to a possible encounter with one or more the strange folk as well. Again, he reminded himself of the sheer foolishness of his idea to go on this particular trip.

In the end, his curiosity and boredom won out.

He waited until late afternoon to replenish his food supplies and went hunting with another headache brought on by his new habit of headbanging the thick hide on the cave wall. In his hands was his new spear and in a small bag on his hip was his new map and his new skinning knife. While it was far from being complete, he made a point to record on it every landmark and hiding spot between his mistress's cave and his destination, the road. He made a last second visit to the dew pond to drink and noticed it seemed a little lower than he last remembered. Not thinking too much of it, he set off on his hunt.

As he traversed woods that hid his mistress's cave, he spotted more evidence of the feral child of the stump having killed, skinned, and, in a few cases, butchered the smaller beasts the inhabited the woods. It was not long before he sensed he was being watched again, this time he actively searched for his diminutive voyeur and saw the feral child briefly just before it disappeared into the shadow. The child was still completely naked which told him that it did not grasp the concept of clothing. He made yet another mental note to introduce the concept to the feral child.

What it was doing with the small hides it was taking eluded his reasoning.


	50. Water Woes

He kept one eye on the local landmarks while keeping the other open for any beast tracks worth pursuing. As he traveled, he harvested any edible plant matter he came across. As he worked his way through the wooded area around his mistress's cave, he was able to make a few kills of the smaller beasts. These he skinned and used their hides to wrap for the meat he harvested from their carcasses. Knowing he was going on a multiple day trip into unfamiliar lands, he chose to cook the meat from kills so his supplies of food would last longer.

He decided that now would be a good time to try his mistress's method of build a cooking fire. Having observed her start the fire in her cave countless times, he long ago figured out exactly the type of stone she used to produce a shower of hot sparks from the blade of her sword. He quickly built a small, but suitable mound of dried twigs and other combustible materials and gently stabbed it with his metal tipped spear. After fishing about in his collection of his fire starting tools, he pulled out a piece of very hard rock. Then, he made a quick scraping motion down his spear's metallic tip with it. The resulting shower of red-hot sparks that came forth nearly blinded him. After recovering, he adjusted the angle of his spear so more of the sparks would fall onto the starting materials for his fire. He only needed a few more attempts before he got it started. Once the fire was fully built, he reflected on the differences between his method of fire building and his mistress's and came to the following conclusion.

Her method was certainly much faster and easier!

Once he had fully cooked and repackaged the meat from his kills, he pressed onwards with his journey. He left the woods behind just as night fell and quickly noticed the ground beneath his feet had gotten harder and there was more dust in the air. He pushed this information into the back of his mind as he entered a scrub land dominated by tall grass and bushes. His prior experiences with this environment caused him to slow to a walking pace for two reasons. The tall grass was provided hiding places for all manner beasts and the holes dug by some of them could twist an ankle.

He knew all to well that impaired movement was often a death sentence on this world.

Under the light of a nearly full green moon, he struggled to keep his bearing. He was often forced to climb up a hill or half rotted tree trunk so that he could locate a landmark to navigate with. As he continued to quietly slip through the tall grass, he began to notice dried out bits on the local vegetation. This observance combined with the reduced water levels in the dew pond and the other evidence he saw earlier in the day finally caused him to realize that another season had passed and this upcoming one was going to be drier and warmer.

Hours passed as he was often forced to route around the more aggressive beasts or unsafe terrain. Once the red sun climbed up far enough over the horizon, he was able to increase his pace as his visibility improved. By the time midday arrived, he started feeling thirsty. He reached for a water skin and discovered that it was not in its place. A thorough search of his person revealed there was no such item in his possession. He slapped the palm of his hand over his face and realized in all the excitement surrounding his skull based lantern, he had completely forgotten to make a water skin!

He took a few deep breaths, checked his hide map again, and carefully weighed his options. He knew the safest and easiest option was to simply return to his mistress's cave. But, something inside him refused to take that option. As he silently deliberated with himself, he began recalling his earlier moments with his mistress. In particular, the times when she dragged him to and from the communal camp. He remembered the general lack food and water both he and his mistress endured on those trips. Despite these hardships, she seemed to always find something to keep them going. He replayed these memories and inspected them for how his mistress provided for him. To his surprise, he now saw her survival techniques far more clearly than he ever did back then.

Realizing that there was plenty of water around him, he looked around and noticed a plant with orbs hanging from it. A quick cut with his skinning knife revealed these orbs were just seed pods that contained nothing drinkable. However, his examination of the plant dislodged a few precious drops of water that fell on to his hands. A closer inspection revealed the drops were coming from every place on the stem where a branch was growing. To his amazement these plants had their own ways of capturing the morning dew just like the dew pond. His pace slowed greatly as he stopped at each pod plant like a bee to suck a few precious sips of water.

Eventually, he traveled out the scrub land and into to more a rockier landscape. He looked at the sky and saw the red sun was nearing the far horizon. Feeling his body's demand for sleep, he opened his hide map and looked for any refuges that happened to be nearby. He saw what appeared to be a cave and decided to risk sleeping in it instead of continuing journeying while tired. As he quickened his pace, he felt a warm breeze blow on him. Heedless of its warning, he finally arrived at the refuge by the time the red sun was already beginning to set.

When he arrived, he saw that there was no cave, or anything that resembled a proper refuge for one of the strange folk to hide from the day. Instead, all he could see was a sheer cliff face cut into the side of a large hill. He checked his map and the local landmarks and became certain that he was in the right location. He sat down, cleared his mind, and thought about everything he knew of his mistress's hiding techniques, especially her secret stash. Then, he stood up into the waning light of the day and looked around for something that was a little too hidden. Upon seeing a clump of yellowing grass and dried moss that had grown around one particular boulder, he became suspicious.

He cleared most of the vegetation from around the great stone and saw a thin, but uniform crack around it. He made several attempts to budge the boulder, but fail to gain access to what was beyond it. He refused to give up and reluctantly stuck the metal point of his spear into the crack and began to pry. He felt cool, moist air blow on him as he forced the crack to open up. Once he had shifted the boulder an inch, he withdrew his spear and inspected its tip for any signs of having become bent. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that it was still straight as it ever was. Then, he shove the butt of his spear into the widened crack and began applying his full strength and weight against his spear.

After several mighty pushes and pulls, he was able to move the boulder far enough for him to slip past it. He found the space behind the boulder was cramped, but surprisingly cooler than the outside air. As he evicted several stones that possessed the remarkable ability to find his every vertebrae, he thought about his mistress and how she was faring on her own personal quest. He finished clearing a place for him to rest and laid down to sleep. As he closed his eyes, he realized he was wet. A quick examination revealed that he had been sweating due to all the exertion and warmth. He took off his attire and laid down on them to sleep. Just as sleep finally claimed him, he began to feel thirsty again.

He awoke feeling parched. As he put his apparel back on, he once again reassessed the wisdom of continuing his journey and faced taking the easy solution to his current problem by returning to his mistress's cave. But, something inside wanted him to keep going onwards. He began consider the pros and cons of his situation and after a few minutes he had an epiphany! He realized that the water skin was a luxury and in many ways it could be taken from him, damaged, or lost. Furthermore, not all the dangers he was going to face were just beasts and the strange folk. He needed to endure this world's environment as well as fight it's denizens.

Now knowing what he truly needed to survive on this world was the experience of what he now was going through, he slipped out of space behind the boulder and stood tall in the noon day sun and felt the temperature was even warmer than the day before. As he pushed the boulder back into its place, he recalled both the abundance of moss and grass around it and that the space behind the boulder was cooler than the outside air. This observance made him think this rocky cliff face might have a natural basin somewhere inside it. He quickly started looking for similar growths around the various cracks in the cliff face. He found a few likely candidates, but was unable to reach any moisture with his hands. Refusing to give up, he began inserting his spear, butt first, into these cracks and found one that would accept nearly six feet of his spear before stopping.

When he pulled his spear out of this crack, he saw the last foot of it was wet!

He tasted the wet end of his spear and identified the substance as water. While it helped his thirst, he knew he would be here all day and night at his current rate of rehydrating himself. Looking around for something that could serve as a cup and still was still small enough to fit down the crack. High up on the cliff above him, he saw a nest. Hoping that it still contained some usable eggshells, he began to climb.

The sun baked rocks proved to be unpleasantly warm to his gloved hands as he climbed up the cliff face. Once he could see into the nest, he saw a small empty eggshell among the other items still in the nest. Based on the weathered old bones he observed, he guessed that this nest had been unused for over a season at least. He felt it was safe to loot the the nest of the eggshell in it, climbed over, plucked the much needed vessel from the nest, and placed the delicate eggshell in between his lips to avoid crushing it. Having claimed his prize, he began the long slow climb down.

He carefully compared the eggshell to large crack in the cliff face that had water in it and found it would fit. Sacrificing a bit material from his clothing, he created and tied a harness around the eggshell and tied the harness to the butt of his spear. Then, he carefully lowered the harnessed eggshell down the large crack. He closed his eyes and listened carefully to sounds coming from the crack. Once he came to within a half foot of where his spear stopped the last time, he started pulling his spear out of the large crack. He tried to remain calm as his spear emerge, but as the soaked last half foot of it appeared he started feeling tension building inside him and with it came the burning sensation.

He felt that tension suddenly melt away once he spotted the eggshell was still in its harness. He brought the tiny vessel to his open mouth and tipped the contents into it. Then, he swished the fluid around a few times in his mouth to give it chance to warn him of any foul flavors and impurities. Satisfied that contents of his mouth was safe, he swallowed. The quarter cup of fluid was enough to make him feel better physically and spiritually. He understood that for the second time he faced the prospect of abandoning his journey and he did not succumb to taking the easy way out. Feeling empowered, he began retrieving additional water from the large crack in the cliff face.

Late afternoon arrived by the time he felt that he had completely rehydrated himself. After a quick meal, he stashed the eggshell and its harness in the space behind the boulder. Then, he pushed the boulder close and placed as much of the dried out vegetation around to help conceal its presence. He consulted his hide map and got his bearings and began jogging his way towards the road. Based on what he saw on the map, he was already half way to his destination.

He jogged steadily throughout the night and into the next day as he continued crossing the trails of many different kinds of beasts. Most of which he had never encountered before. He eventually made his way out of the rocky hills and into to a vast plain dominated by tufts of knee high grass. Despite the red sun beating down on him, he persevered on his journey only stopping occasionally to look at his map and to keep his bearings. He wiped the sweat away from his eyes as he traveled across the great prairie and did his best to ignore his growing thirst. Once the red sun had reached the horizon again, he received a small amount of relief as the temperatures began to cool. In the last light of the sun, he examined his map and saw there were no refuges nearby. Despite being sweaty, tired, and very thirsty, he continued towards his goal.

Despite what his map revealed to him, the great prairie seemed to go on forever. To make matters worse, he found both his thoughts and sense of direction drifting. Several times he had to stop briefly to reorient himself. By the time the sun finally rose again, his thirst so great he squeezed the juices of vegetable matter he had brought with him into his mouth. The paltry amount of hydration he gained by this action did little to help alleviate the symptoms of dehydration he was suffering. Faced with the dire situation he had created for himself, he looked around and saw he had been running parallel to great road. He let out a sigh, jogged the last few hundred feet, and stood on his goal.

What triumph he felt was tempered by the foolishness he felt for placing himself in danger once again. He took another look at his map and the local landmarks. Based on what he saw, there was refuge not too far from where he was. But, he quickly noticed two problems with it. First, it appeared on the map to be a rocky overhang and its location was close to the road. These two variables greatly raised the probability in his mind that the refuge was already occupied and in his dehydrated state he doubted he would be able to evict the current occupant.

He frowned when he finally realized that this situation required drastic measures and he knew he had one final source of hydration he had not tapped into yet. In fact, he had been saving this source throughout the last night and day. In all of his travels with his mistress, there were times he had considered resorting to this extreme survival method. However, she always had the knack of finding a few sips of water here and there to share with him. He let out another sigh once he accepted that there was no way of avoiding what was needed to be done. He reluctantly took of his hooded jacket and twisted the top part of it tightly to seal it. Next, with his other hand, he held the hood between his legs and relieved the contents of his bladder into it. Then, he called upon the fires burning inside himself to suppress his gagging reflex.

Finally, he tipped the contents of his hood into the back of his mouth and swallowed.


	51. Cruelity and Pity

He dropped to his knees as his stomach began churn as a result of its sudden introduction to the former contents of his bladder. Struggling valiantly, he knew he had to keep from vomiting. However, the nauseated feeling he was suffering persisted as the minutes passed. Hoping that some distraction would help, he began to focus on the paving stones of the road he was doubled over on and saw that each of the paving stones were custom fitted together in a similar fashion to ancient roman roads he had seen in books.

Lifting his head a little, he noticed there was a pair of shallow ruts carved into the paving stones on each side the road. He crawled between the nearest set and compared the distance between the two ruts with what he could recall of the spacing between the wheels of every wagon he had ever seen and sensed that they matched. Looking down the road in one direction, he saw the road stretch off into the distance and when he looked the other way, he saw a similar vista. He attempted to imagine both the number of slaves and days required to build such grand avenue, but he found it impossible. In his mind the closest things that came close to this road in sheer scale were the Great Wall of China or the Great Pyramid of Giza!

Still feeling a bit woozy, he rested his head on the paving stones of road for moment. As he waited for his stomach to calm, he occasionally felt strange vibrations coming from road. Recalling an old native American trick, he placed his ear against a paving stone, closed his eyes, and listened. A rhythmic series of heavy thumps coming through the road made their way in his ear. He focused his mind on the task of answering what kind kind of beast was creating the sound. After a few minutes, the horse like cadence of the heavy thumps allowed him to deduce what he was hearing were the hooves of a musclebeast walking on the road.

He listened for a little bit longer, but was unable determine which way the beast traveling along the great road. Due to this one important piece of information, he felt an urge to get off the road. But, just as he was about to roll on to his feet, he discerned a low, but constant rumbling in between each heavy step of the musclebeast. After thinking about it for a few moments, he identified what he was hearing was a wagon traveling along the road as well. He was a bit surprised at this discovery as he previously thought the wagon riding strange folk were unable to travel during the daylight just like their foot bound brethren.

As soon as he stood on his feet, a new realization started to settle into his brain. The fact that this road was still in use, even during the daylight hours forced him to reassess the time required for the strange folk to traverse the entirety of the landmass he was on. He found it was much less than he had originally predicted. In his mind, This savage new world he had been living on for all this time suddenly started to shrink size and the fertile hunting grounds he lived in were now just a tiny oasis. He suddenly had a terrible feeling that time between now and his eventual prophetic encounter with the three strange folk from his dreams was much shorter than he thought.

A strong breeze distracted him from his thoughts and he walked over to where he had dropped his hooded jacket. After picking it up and smelling it, he decided to invert the hooded jacket and left it to dry out on some rocks near the road. Next, he wondered where he was going to get his next drink of water and decided the best place to look would be at the nearest refuge. Knowing that violence might be involved, he assessed himself for such an encounter. The confusion that plagued his thinking and sense of direction last night had cleared as did the recent nausea he had brought on himself. Feeling as good as he could ever hope for, he consulted his map, grabbed his metal tipped spear, and started jogging toward the only refuge for miles around. As his map had indicated, the refuge was a rocky overhang. Once he had spotted it, he spent nearly an hour circling it to determine if the refuge was occupied.

To his disappointment, it was.

Based on the snarls and growling, he could tell that the current occupant of this refuge was sleeping. He briefly considered using a stealth approach to cull slumbering strange folk. But, he resisted that idea when he realized that he did not know where the nearest source of water was still and culling the only individual who might know seemed to him to be a bad plan. Having crossed off easy solution to this problem, he sneaked as closely as he dared near the rocky overhang and looked about for some additional clues to where a water source might be located.

A quick glance at a nearby dead camp fire revealed a number of bones which told him that this particular strange folk had been camping here for a few days. This discovery raised his hopes that there was some water close by. A sudden, but familiar sounding whinny came from the darkest area under the overhang. He decided to take a risk and crept slowly under under the overhang that formed this refuge until he could see what made the peculiar noise. Squinting as best he could at the darkest shadows, he saw the outline of a musclebest! However, he quickly found something very odd about this particular beast. It was missing both its arms and one of its four legs. He looked at the dead camp fire and saw that the most of the bones corresponded to the size and shape of the musclebeast's missing limbs. Suddenly, A sense of disgust came over him. He tried to keep an open mind about what he was seeing and suspected that refrigeration probably had not been invented on this world yet. However, he felt that there was something very wrong about slowly consuming a musclebeast one limb at a time. As he struggled to keep his emotions under control, but the internal fires within him began to grow the more he tried to rationalize the cruel treatment of this musclebeast.

A change in the sounds coming the sleeping strange folk alerted him that he did not have any more time to pity the poor creature. He quickly and stealthily made his way out from the overhang and back into the afternoon light all the while hoping the mutilated musclebeast would not snitch him out. As he hid among waist high prairie grass a hundred feet away, he remained watchful. The strange folk awoke just as he predicted, yawned, and stretched. He hoped the occupant was thirsty and would soon go to find water so that he could follow. However, the strange folk walked towards the triple amputee musclebeast and returned some minutes later to rebuild the camp fire.

A few more thirsty hours passed as he continued to watch the occupant of the refuge mill about. Feeling impatient, he focused on the importance of finding out where this particular strange folk was getting water from. He noticed that the red sun's light kept getting dimmer the closer towards the horizon it got and he knew that soon it would be dark enough for the occupant of this refuge to travel. Unexpectedly, he saw the strange folk under the rocky overhang got up and visit the crippled musclebeast again. He feared that another the poor beast was about to lose yet another limb, but when he saw the occupant of the refuge kneel at the musclebeast's mid-section he became intrigued.

Knowing the incredible risks he was taking, he carefully stood up and quietly approached so that he could get a better look. Despite all of the book reading he had done in the past, he did not really know from where milk came out of a cow. However, the hands on demonstration performed by strange folk and the creamy white fluid the emerged proved to him what was under every musclebeast was, in fact, an udder and not some weird alien genitalia as he previously believed. He quickly came to a new understanding that these beasts the strange folk use for pulling their wagons and food where their cattle and the surrounding prairie was possibly grazing land for these muscular creatures. For next several minutes, he watched the strange folk manipulate the udder of crippled musclebeast and consume the resulting milk.

He was so caught up in observing the strange folk's technique for milking the musclebeast that he barely noticed the strong breeze had increased in intensity into a steady wind that caused the grass around him to begin dancing. Realizing that he had just seen where this strange folk was getting hydration from and that he was standing out in the open, he retreated a few dozen paces and knelt among a patch of waist high grass. His hiding placed seemed to be an excellent choice, except for a single stalk of grass that danced around around his face. The more it kept brushing across his face the more he got cross at it, until he became so annoyed that he batted the bothersome stalk away angrily. The added energy from his careless assault cause the dried stalk to bend further away than it would have normally and rebound with even greater force and strike him right under his nose with its pollen laden seed pods.

He heard the resulting sneeze echo several times before ceasing.

He held his breath and instantly dropped to one side and peered through the grass at the overhang. When he saw the strange folk looking out from under the overhang in his general direction, he hoped that it was still early enough in the day that he could just hide and have the strange folk ignore what just happened. But, all his hopes for avoiding detection died when he saw the occupant of the refuge pick up a large leg bone that he presumed had once belonged to the musclebeast and step out from the overhang and into the afternoon light.

He remained calm and counted the advantages that he still possessed over his foe in this upcoming strife. His primary advantage was that he knew what his opponent was, while his foe did not know what to expect yet. Next, was the superior range of his seven foot metal spear versus his foe's improvised bone club. Third, at this time of day he had advantage over his foe although he did not know what difference it would make. Finally, he could feel the burning sensation inside him growing at a surprising rate due to this dangerous situation he found himself in. It was this last advantage he desperately wanted to avoid employing if he could. Although he lacked any proof, he felt that each time he used his gift to overcome the challenges before him, the part of him that reacted without thought, or as he called it the Savage, grew stronger.

He started taking in long and slow breaths as he watched the strange folk scan the dancing grass. As his foe neared, he wished for the strange folk to walk past him or turn around so that he could end this battle before it began. For a few brief moments his wish appeared to be granted when the strange folk stood on the other side of clump of waist high grass he was hiding behind and looked directly at him and then turned away. Gripping his spear tightly, he primed himself to strike. But, hesitated when the afternoon light suddenly diminished. Curious, he looked upwards and saw a thick black moving over the red sun in the sky. Suddenly, he had the feeling he was being watched.

Moving his eyes from the sky and back to other side of the clump of grass he was hiding behind, he saw that his foe was staring directly at him. His every defensive measure instantly primed themselves in preparation of the strange folk's eventual assault. However, his foe did not start attacking. Instead, an all too familiar piece of paper emerged from the clothing the strange folk was wearing and for the next few minutes, he watched his foe carefully compared him to image on the paper. When he saw the strange folk's face display a toothy smile, a chill ran down his spine. The chilly feeling only intensified when heard his foe speak to him, "Come here beast..."

He boggled vacantly at these words. While they were not spoken in his mistress's voice, he could still hear the insincerity behind them. He felt the fires inside grow further in intensity as there was something about a lie that really irked him. Suddenly, the strange folk attempted a quick moment towards his broken metal leash, but he quickly leaped away. Again, he heard same phrase spoken by his foe, before another attempt was made to grab his leash. He quickly understood that this strange folk believed he was just what that paper claimed he was, despite the clothing he was wearing and the weapon in his hands.

With that realization, he began playing the part of a lost beast. He carefully listened to the tones used by his foe as he kept up his charade and when he suspected that the strange folk was about to snap, he reached into his fire building supplies and grabbed the striking stone. After a few more failed attempts by his foe to grab his leash, the strange folk began chasing him directly through the large clumps of grass. Upon seeing this, he deliberately stood on the other side of large clump of dried out waist high grass and let his foe finally grab his leash. He did not know the next alien words uttered by the strange folk meant, but he chose to translate them as "Caught you". To which he responded in his foe's tongue "I no beast" as he scraped a shower of red-hot sparks directly into the large clump of grass the strange folk was standing in.

To his surprise, the grass went up in flames faster than a Christmas tree that some had forgotten to water. Quickly, other clumps of dried out prairie grass downwind began to spontaneously combust as well. He watched as his foe, surprised by the flames, smoke, and his speech, still refuse to let go of his leash. Instead, the strange folk attempted pull him into the growing conflagration. As he felt the blunted tips of his beast collar on his neck, he smirked and then began stabbing at his foe primarily targeting the legs. He continued the fight even when the strange folk finally resorted to using the leg bone as club against him. He suffered some bruises from the few improperly deflected blows that managed to pierce his defenses.

By the time his foe attempted to abscond, the injuries he had inflicted had made this battle a fore-gone conclusion. Deprived of mobility, the strange folk fled by limping along. He felt something primal as he watched his foe try to escape. It was the small feeling that he enjoyed while hunting those rare moments when he had to pursue a wounded beast during his hunts. He identified it as the thrill of stalking prey. Grabbing his spear with both hands, he began to pursue the prey that was now trying to abscond. Once the former occupant of the refuge was permanently dealt with, he returned and searched the refuge for any items that could be of use to him. Nothing worthwhile was discovered which lead him to speculate that the strange folk he had just culled was some sort of brigand or cattle rustler. With nothing else to distract him, he focused on the only source hydration in the area.

The musclebeast with the missing limbs took some time to win over and eventually he was able to gain access to its utter without the beast stamping out its displeasure. He found that it would consume the wrung out plant matter he still possessed. Once he had consumed his fill of its milk, he decided to give the musclebeast a clean death rather leave it to linger on in its current state. While he had never killed one before, every musclebeast he had encountered thus far possessed a neck and head quite similar to a human. With a single stab to a large vein in the neck, he began the long process of bleeding out the muscle beast. He remained with the beast and calmed it until it finally succumbed to blood loss.

Looking towards the cherry red glow of the massive prairie fire he created, he decided not to be caught sleeping in this refuge should someone came to investigate. He consulted his map for the next nearest refuge, got his bearings, and set off without recovering his hooded jacket. His justification for abandoning it were two fold. First, it was time to make a new one. Second, he needed to be as far away as possible from here. Over the next few days, he traveled from refuge to refuge finding water where he could and when he could not he resorted to, as he called it, "emergency rehydration methods". Once he was back at his mistress's cave, the first thing he did was drink the cool waters of the dew pond until he could forget the taste of his own waste product.

Then, he finally made himself a water skin!


	52. Time

He found the task of its creation far easier than any of his previous projects. After selecting a suitable hide, he began applying thin layers of adhesive to it and letting it dry. With each round, he tested the resting composite material for its water tightness and overall flexibility. He discovered that the hide became increasingly stiff as the layers of dried glue built up. But, the adhesive impregnated hide was still malleable after a bit of heating from the fire. To his surprise, the glue hardened hide retained its new shape even after it cooled. He took full advantage of these discoveries and quickly fabricated his water skin into its final form. Once he had fashioned a proper harness for it, he filled his new water skin with water from the dew pond and hung it in the branches of the nearest tree.

He waited for two full days before his curiosity and thirst compelled him to administer the final test. He took his completed project and pulled out the bone stopper he used as a plug. Then, with nervous hands, he raised his creation to his lips and took a mouthful of water. He did not immediately swallow, instead he cautiously swirled the warm water in his mouth a few times to give any hidden nastiness a chance to be detected by his tongue. The lack of any flavors, especially fungus or foot, convinced him to swallow and after a few moments, he felt his thirst slacken. Satisfied that he now had the ability to carry a few days worth of water with him, he focused on his other projects.

He examined his remaining reserves of adhesive and found them low and spent another couple of days creating a decent number of his special torches and created a new satchel to hold all of them. Once he was ready, he left his mistress's cave in the early morning with his metal tipped spear, but decided at the last second to bring along his skull lantern as well since it still had some fuel left in it. He noticed the increasing warmth of this new season as he journeyed to the funnel dweller's lair. All around him, he saw more and more beasts with hide coloration that helped them blend in with the local environment replacing the ones he was more familiar with. He wondered as he walked if this sudden shift was simply an adaptive change the beasts were going through or if these were new creatures that had just freshly woken from hibernation.

He ceased his mental meanderings once he arrived on the edge of the web choked woods where his spidery foe lived. Again, he employed his previous tacit of leapfrogging from campfire to campfire until he arrived at the huge funnel web's opening. He built one last campfire in the mouth and lit his skull lantern. Although he knew that there were several hours worth of fuel in his lantern, he took no chances and tied a torch to the metal tip of his spear and proved that he could light it at a moment's notice with his striking stone. Once that torch burnt itself out, he replaced it with another and finally enter the lair of his old spidery foe.

He found the long brisk walk down into the silk lined cavern was made uneventful and easy by smaller flame his lantern emitted compared to the torches had used on his previous trips. Once he entered the large underground chamber, he sensed the funnel web dweller reacting to his presence by moving away from him. This behavior intrigued him since it had shown an impressive amount of intelligence on his last trip into its silken abattoir. He looked at the steady white flame being emitted by his skull lantern and noticed that the flame lacked any yellow and red coloration that his torches and campfires produced. Speculating that it was this difference in the coloration of the light emitted of his new light source and his torches that the funnel web dweller was reacting too, he carefully adjusted the flame of his skull lantern until it was as large and bright as possible. He searched the chamber for his spidery foe with this new and incredibly bright light and found it backed up against the furthest wall, covering its eyes as best it could with its remaining seven legs.

He took this behavior as a sign he would not be troubled by the funnel web while his skull lantern was lit and adjust the flame emitted by it back to levels he could tolerate easily and removed the unlit torch from his With the freedom afforded to him by his lamp, he had his pick of any of the cocooned beasts the funnel web dweller had caught since his last visit. He soon noticed a lack of larger beasts that were cocooned and stuck to the walls of the silken chamber. This discovery made him suspect that both he and his mistress had wounded the funnel web dweller a lot more than he had previously realized and that it may have lost the ability to hunt larger prey. Taking the needs of his spidery foe into account, he realized that he needed to be careful which cocoons he stole from the funnel web dweller lest he drive it away or starve it. He paused as he put some thought into solving this dilemma.

Suddenly, he remembered he was only interested in the spider web's adhesive, not it's silk threads!

He began investigating every cocoon by giving it a good thump with the butt of his spear. Those that showed signs of life he ignored and, instead focused on the few that produced no noticeable feedback. Among these, he discovered that only one cocoon had a shriveled look to it. His curiosity compelled him to stab into this particular cocoon and tear it open. The smell from torrent of bones and half rotted hide that spilled from the cocoon made him gag briefly, but with a bit of willpower he was able to keep the contents of his stomach where they belonged.

Having found his next supply of adhesive, he began cutting it from the wall where it was stuck with his metal tipped spear. He found the job more time-consuming than he had anticipated and after a few dozen slashes at the now empty cocoon he examined the edges of his spear and found that the metal had become dulled. At first this result perplexed him a bit since he had never seen nor heard his mistress sharpening her sword. However, after some reminiscing, he recalled that the sword of his mistress had different coloration to its metal than his spear. Thus, he reasoned it was most likely made from a different and harder alloy as well. Faced with the neglect he had heaped on his newest weapon, he made a mental note to sharpen it later when he got the chance.

He resumed the retrieval of the cocoon with the help of his new obsidian skinning knife. Its razor sharp edge parted the glue soaked strands of spider silk effortlessly and made his labor much easier. Once he got his prize off the wall, he divided the opened cocoon into nearly equal portions and skewered them on his spear for easy transport. Then, he gathered up his belongings and walked to the entrance of the silken underground chamber. There, he scratched away the silk on the floor until bare rocks remained. Next, he planted one of his torches in the stones and lit it. After the torch's initial flare up, he carefully watched the ground around it for signs of catching fire. Once satisfied that funnel web dweller was safely blocked in its chamber, he began the journey back to the surface with is skull lantern.

By the time he had emerged from the funnel web, his mind was already working on finding a way to sharpen his metal tipped spear. He recalled the various books and comics he had read in the past and recalled several methods for sharpening knives out in the wild. The first technique that he was able to fully recall was using flat stones of increasing fineness as whetstones to bring the edge of the cutting surface back into shape. His pace quickened as he realized that he already possessed a few likely candidates in his collection of stuff back at his mistress's cave. Excited, he maintained his excited pace all the way to the only he knew as home.

Once back inside the cave, he wasted little time stowing his plundered spider silk and searching his ever-growing pile of things for the flat stones he remembered. He ran his fingers over each one as he found them to test the overall smoothness of each. Once he found all of the flat stones and organized them according to abrasiveness, he selected one stone that was in between the most and least abrasive stones. After spitting on the flat stone, he began running the dulled edges of his metal tipped spear at a twenty two degree angle in a single cutting motion with even pressure. He gave dozen of these sharpening strokes to one side of his spear's point and then turn his spear over to sharpen the other side. Once that edge was finished, he turned the spear around and sharpened both sides of the spear's other cutting-edge. He came curious at the kind edge his efforts had produced thus far and placed the edge of his pear's point against his arm.

To his pleasant surprise, he found he could almost shave with it!

As he resumed his sharpening efforts with another stone with even finer grit, he rubbed his chin and upper lip and felt the beginnings of his beard and mustache present. He continued to think about his facial hair as he worked his way up to the stone with the finest grit. As he finished with each one, he repeated his attempt at shaving the hairs off his arms and found that each finer stone brought the spear's cutting surfaces just little bit closer to his ideal sharpness. Once he finished with his final stone, he became satisfied with his spear's cutting-edge.

When he left his mistress's cave, he noticed that the sun was setting. He took his now razor sharp spear with him up to the dew pond, sat near its shore, and lean over to see his reflection. He saw that his hair had almost fully recovered from the incident with the dragon and soon would need trimming. What could not wait for another time he saw were the faint wisps of hair on his upper lip. He noticed his reflection was already bearing a remarkable resemblance to his slightly racist alcoholic southern gentleman ancestor. While he knew that not all gentlemen were clean shaven, he recalled that it was a mark of a civilized man to keep facial hair trimmed and tidy. He carefully brought the point of his spear to his face as he watched his reflection in the dew pond's surface. Slowly and carefully he began to shave.

He completed the task, but not without some bloodshed on his part. In hindsight, he reasoned that he could have gotten similar results without as much pain and suffering he had used his obsidian skinning knife. However as he examined his clean shaven reflection in the pond, he felt a bit more civilized and a less like a savage. He knew this experience was, at best, a minor victory in the battle for his soul. But, he felt that these struggles for the little things that mattered most. As he saw it, he did not need to shave. However, he chose to do so.

The calm civilized feeling he enjoyed lasted through the pain brought on my treating his shaving wounds with the pulp of the maroon plant and continued until he slept. Again, the same prophetic dream played out again. When he awoke this time, neither his heart nor his mind was not racing. Instead, he remained calm and began planning and calculating, action by action, various schemes and strategies to defeat the trio of strange folk he was destined to meet. These early scenarios did not play out well for him, but he refused to give up. Based on what he saw in his dreams, as long as his mistress was gone he still had time to find some way overcoming his foes.

One by one, each day began to play out like the one before it. He hunted to satisfied his own needs, while being sure to take the hide of every beast he killed. Occasionally, he would sense that the feral was child was watching him. During these moments he tried to demonstrate the value of wearing clothing, but the idea was difficult to communicate without language. It was only by chance that he managed to get the feral child to understand the concept.

He had misjudged the reach of new beast had not seen before and was paid in fresh wounds for his mistake. Not only was there little in natural materials to help close the wounds he had suffered, but he could sense the feral child was watching him screw up as well. Since he was unwilling to bleed all the way to back to his mistress's cave, he resorted to using hide strips take the beast that injured him to keep his wounds closed. Just as he was finished bandaging his wounds, he saw the feral child staring at him intensely. A few days later, he caught sight of the child wearing bits of hide tied to its body.

After hunting, he spent the rest of the day repairing his clothing, sharpening his spear, and copying the map on the wall in the back chambers of his mistress's cave. As he neared completion with that task, he began to stargaze more and more. It was during one these star watching sessions that he finally discovered the invisible axis that the starry sky of this world spun on. To his amazement, this slow turning spot in the night sky matched what he had been calling north on his hide map! Now armed with the ultimate "Land" mark, he felt confident enough to make additional week long journeys away from his mistress's cave. He made the trip all the out to the ruins where he first met his mistress so long ago. The strange platform he had used to travel to this world was still there, but it still refused to send him back home when he tried standing on it. After exploring the regions around his mistress's cave, he found his wanderlust satisfied.

The days continued to blur as they passed. He would have been barely aware of the time he spent alone, if it were not for the ever-thinning hide on the cave he frequently vented his frustrations upon, his growing hair beginning to cover his eyes, and the changing seasons. Most of his various projects came to completion. He was able to teach the feral child to perform basic stitching by leaving partial completed boots and gloves for it to find and when he saw it for the last time, the child was wearing several articles of clothing of its own creation. He eventually finished copying the map off the wall in the back chamber. Based on his travels, he was fairly certain that his hide map was reasonably accurate.

The only items that eluded him were finding away to defeat the three strange folk from his dream and controlling his temper. Despite his best efforts, every trick, stratagem, and tacit he could come up with all ended with him dead or enslaved. His failure to come up with any plan frustrated him so greatly that the internal fire inside him would burn fiercely and he would be forced to spend hours hitting the ever-thinning hide on the wall with his hands, knees, feet, elbows, and his head. Once he noticed that tears had appeared in the hide, he knew he needed something else to occupy his time and mind.

He was not sure if it was loneliness or something else that caused him start making sparring clubs and practicing with them. However as he experimented with them, he learned a few things about of their construction and found ways to minimize the chances a large splinter could form and potentially tear the flesh of his mistress. As his skills as a carpenter improved, he began to make larger clubs, staves, and other weapons and stockpile them in anticipation of his mistress's return. As her absence continued, he began practicing by himself. Once he felt that he could learn nothing more from practicing, he began fighting the smaller local beasts while armed with these sparring weapons until he forced them to abscond. As his victories increased, he started targeting larger beasts.

One day after fighting several beasts with a sparring club, he returned to the cave only to find the entrance boulder had been pushed away.


	53. Old Flames

He approached the opening of his mistress's cave with great caution. The fact that the entrance boulder was clearly moved from where he last left it was all the evidence he needed to know that what he was about to face was one of the strange folk. He felt the exhaustion from the battles he had fought earlier in the day melt away as the internal flames inside him were rekindled by the danger this intrusion presented. As he neared the entrance to the cave, his mind turned to question of how he was going to cull his foe.

He quickly took stock of his weapons and found that all he had available to at this moment was the sparring club in his hands and the obsidian skinning knife on his belt. Based on his past experiences, he knew the sparring club would be completely ineffective against any grey skinned foes that might be still present in the cave. While being razor sharp and possessing a deadly point, he was aware that his skinning knife would shatter against any metal weapon it came in contact with. The only solution he could come up with for this problem was to wield both the sparring club and his knife at the same time. Thus giving him the ability to parry with the club while preserving his ability to deal out death with the point of his skinning knife.

He hesitated before crossing the threshold of his mistress's cave. His accumulated experiences of hunting and surviving on this alien world cautioned him against blindly charging into the cave. Instead, he calmed himself as best he could, listened, and hoped to hear nothing but silence. He frowned when he first heard the sounds of heavy breathing. But, he gradually became more intrigued as he heard the familiar sounds of someone mourning or grieving. With weapons at the ready, he stepped into the cave to confront what was making all the sad noises.

He waited for a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the caves before entering the cave's main chamber. Quickly, he spied a figure sitting in his mistress's usual spot. He mentally prepared himself for the coming battle, but stopped when the figure did not bother to react to his presence. With his curiosity slowly winning out over his suspicions, he approached the mysterious figure with his weapons still at the ready and took a second closer at the stranger's form.

The strange folk before him was obviously a lady, although her wild and unkempt hair made it difficult for him to determine what shapes her horns were. Furthermore, he found her clothing was made from unfamiliar beast hides. The way mismatched hides her clothing were made from were joined together and her worn out boots gave him the impression that this strange vagabond had scavenged her way from one side of this great landmass to the other. He jumped backwards when the figure unexpectedly shook her head as she wiped the tears from that starting to form in her eyes. This action of his unexpected guest allowed him to finally get a glimpse at the pair of very pointy and familiar horns on the mysterious strange folk's head. When he finally realized that his mistress had returned, he lowered his weapons.

After letting out the biggest sigh of relief in his entire life, he tried to get his mistress's attention. However, when he saw the gut wrenching forlorn expression on her face, he knew that his mistress's attempts at buying him back from whomever the merchant had sold him to had failed horribly. He tried showing her the various items he had created while she was gone, but he was unable to generate any response other than her looking back at him with deep regret. As the minutes passed, he slowly began to wonder if there was something more his mistress was depressed about and when he looked at what she was holding he discovered the answer. In her hands was the stylish, but serviceable hat he had given her.

Even worse, he saw that his mistress was slowly tearing it apart stitch by stitch.

He recognized that this slow and deliberate desecration of perfectly good head wear represented what was happening to their relationship. Whatever transpired on his mistress's quest, he speculated that it caused her to revisit the question of what he was. He felt a deep and biting ache when the thought of that his mistress was seriously contemplating breaking up with him popped into his mind. As he got the cooking fire started he thought of all their experiences together and decided that he would continue to fight for her friendship even if there was no chance of their relationship lasting. When he contemplated the alternative of facing all the horrors of this alien world alone, he felt the fires within himself burn terribly.

Figuring that his mistress must be hungry, he cooked for her. However, she refused to eat. Even after burning off the built up fiery energy inside himself and sleeping, he noticed the meat he cooked for her was still untouched. For the next three days and nights, he watched his mistress continue to sit in the same place while she ever-so-slowly unraveled the stylish, but serviceable hat he had given her. This development bothered him deeply and he tried everything he could think of to break his mistress out of the spell she was under, but nothing worked. He was about to give up in frustration when he suddenly recalled that he and his mistress had two different relationships and if he could not rekindle their affectionate feelings towards one another, then maybe he could get her goat one last time.

Based on how his mistress had been acting for the last few days, he knew that this was not going to be an easy task. He needed something so annoying that she had to respond to his actions and, at the same time, something completely new. He racked his brains for hours trying to come up with a new way to raise his mistress's ire, but was unable to come up with anything that was not just a variation on something he had done to her before. Figuring he was trying too hard to come up with an idea, he decided to let his subconscious come up with something while he sharpened his metal tipped spear. As he honed the tip of his spear, he became distracted by his mistress's plight and accidentally picked up the wrong rock and ran it down the point of his spear.

He felt the resulting finger-nails-on-a-chalkboard noise in his teeth.

Suddenly, a feral growl coming from his mistress made him turn his head towards his mistress only to see her hateful narrowed eyes searching for the source of the sound he mistakenly created. This time he was able to keep his poker face on and was thankful that the cave's acoustic properties masked the origin of the awful sound. Secretly pleased, he waited for his mistress to resume her brooding before giving her another dose of the painfully annoying sound. Again, he kept his innocent demeanor as his mistress stood up and growled again. He quickly switched stones and continued sharpening to keep up his innocent facade and noticed that his mistress took quite some time to calm down again.

Knowing he could not sharpen his spear forever, he made a game of torturing his mistress for the next few hours while cloaking his aural assaults with other busy work. Soon, he began using short bursts, followed by long blasts of the highly annoying sound to get her on feet and moving again. He quickly got the impression that his mistress wanted to destroy the sound's source. Eventually, he riled his mistress to the point that she was tearing the interior of the cave apart in an attempt to find the sound's creator. Realizing he was taking the game too far, he allowed himself get caught creating the sound.

The speed at which his mistress caught him by the beast collar around his neck and then lifted him off the floor surprised him!

As painful he found it to be suspended by his neck, he knew this was another do-or-die moment between him and his mistress. Slowly, he brought both his spear and the strange stone he had been tormenting her with right in front of her face. Then, with a smug look on his face, he made one final defiant screech with the rock and spear. He found her reaction to be predictable as he was thrown out of cave like a rag doll. As he picked himself back up, he heard much screaming and howling. Then, he watched stunned as the entrance boulder was rolled into place. Only to be rolled out the way a few minutes later.

As he observed his mistress emerge from her cave, he could tell she was conflicted. While it obvious to him she did not want to fight him, there was something that compelling her to do so. After she had walked over to the woodworking area, her next set of actions surprised him. One by one, he watched as his mistress began breaking the various wooden sparring weapons he had created during her absence. First, to go was the two-handed club he had hoped to use. Next, was the quarterstaff he had fashioned. In the end, the only weapons left unbroken by his mistress's rampage were the few sparring clubs that matched her original design. He ducked and dodged as his mistress hurled these remaining wooden weapons at him. Know what was coming next, he snatched one up and got ready to fight.

He heard no formal declaration of hostilities by his mistress. Instead, he detected a rapidly moving grey blur coming right at him. With his first few parries, he could tell that his mistress was already close to being completely unhinged and, despite her having not eaten anything in the past few days, she was as strong as ever. He continued defending himself against his mistress's assaults and noticed that she was only fighting with flat side of her sword. Based on this, he knew he needed to enrage her just a bit more.

Sacrificing every defensive measure, he began pushing through her frenzied attacks. He felt dozens of fresh stinging welts appearing all over his body as he powered through attacks and narrowed the distance between him and his mistress and reached for her. One of his hands successfully grabbed one of his mistress's horns and, with the leverage this grapple provided, he leaped at his mistress and pinned her sword arm against her body with his legs. He heard his mistress screamed and felt her wriggle desperately as he slid the sparring club under her trapped arm and pushed up towards her shoulder. He did not get chance to apply his strength against the vulnerable joint due to his mistress summoning the strength to lift both herself and him from the ground and began furiously and clumsily punching him with her free hand. After eating a dozen or so knuckle sandwiches, he felt his grapple on her break.

He quickly got back on his feet and assessed himself. Despite the repeated blows to his face and head, he was not feeling any effects of a concussion and became grateful for the hours he spent thumping his head against the hide on the cave's wall. When looked at his mistress, she was swinging her sword arm this way and that to make sure it was not dislocated. Then, she turned towards him and turned the blade so he could clearly see the alien glyphs that ran down its side. Despite all the times he had been slapped up one side of his head and down the other by her sword, this was the first time he ever noticed there was writing on it. Even though he could not translate the alien text, just by the way his mistress presented her sword to him he knew she was about to get serious.

At that moment, he decided to stop suppressing the growing flames inside himself.

He immediately went on full defense and soon was evading the edge of mistress's sword. But as the fight went on, he could feel the faint trickles of blood as his mistress found flaws in his defenses and with each cut, he could feel the burning sensation inside him building faster. As the flames consumed him from the inside, he began to feel the more impulsive side of him, the savage, asserting itself. Suddenly, he could see openings appearing in his mistress's defenses and began to perceive opportunities to strike back at his mistress. As the tide of battle turned towards his favor, for every new cut his mistress gave him, he repaid her with a powerful kick, or quick punch to the face, or solid hit with the sparring club. After few more of these tit-for-tat exchanges, he watched amazed as his mistress backed off and growled at him as if she was suffering one of one her nightmares. After many months of silence, a thought from somewhere popped into his head.

It warned him that his mistress was about to kill him.

He looked at what remained of his sparring club and saw that it had been hacked down by his mistress's sword until it resembled a sharpened stick. Suddenly, he could feel the savage inside him wanting to plunge that wooden spike into the upper torso of his mistress. He became so disgusted at that thought that he valiantly tried to mental push the savage back into whatever place from where it came from. As he struggled to do so, he was awareness of his mistress dimmed. All he could see was the glint of moonlight off the edge of her sword as she lunged at him. He was able to dodge the deadly blade at the last possible moment, but suffered a six inch cut across his chest as a result of twisting his body sideways to evade the deadly point of his mistress's sword. The ease at which he performed this evasive maneuver surprised him. He had the strange feeling the both he and the savage inside him got the idea to evade the business end of his mistress's sword together at the same time. As his mistress ready herself to launch another lethal attack, he focused on the savage inside him.

He sensed that it clearly wanted to win this fight and it did not care by what means. He too wanted to win, preferably without dying as well. But, he also refused to cull his mistress. He acknowledged that she wanted to kill him. But, he suspected only as a result of her conflicted feelings towards him and, thus, she did not deserve death just because she was having a really bad day. Especially, since he was the one who riled her up. With the goal firmly set his mind, he became resolute, picked up another fresh club from the ground, and ceased fighting his alter ego.

As he waited for his mistress to make her final attack he felt whole and at peace with himself.

Unexpectedly, he watched his mistress study him and backed away as if she was unsure. Welcoming this bit of respite, he used this opportunity to stoke burning flames inside him as much possible and soon felt the terrible energy he was summoning wanting to escape. As it built, the symptoms he had previously experienced whenever his gift manifested revealed themselves. A racing heart rate, a deepening redness coloring his vision, and the peculiar alteration in his perception of time all took their toll on him.

Suddenly and in slow motion, he saw his mistress perform her final strike at him. Trusting his carpentry skills fully, he raised the sparring club he created and held it with each hand on each end of it and positioned the club at arm's-length directly between the center of his torso and the point of his mistress's sword. His perception of time increasingly slowed down as his mistress neared and at the moment the tip of sword touched the sparring club he held with both hands, he perceived that time had slowed to a crawl. He could feel the point of his mistress's sword penetrating the wooden sparring club, but from his unique point of view, it took nearly a minute for him to see the tip of her sword to completely pierce the sparring club.

Once it did, he began twisting the club and, in turn, the sword that was currently traveling through it.


	54. Revelations

First, ten degrees of rotation, then forty-five, and finally at ninety degrees of rotation he felt the bones in the wrist of his mistress seize as she struggled to hold on to her sword. He continued to put everything had into twisting the impaled sparring club and was soon rewarded with both his mistress's sword and the club stuck on it popping from his mistress's grasp before flipping the fuck out of his field of vision. See that his mistress was still approaching him in slow motion, he decided to end this fight with the only weapon he had left.

He balled his punching-the-hide-on-the-cave-wall toughened hand up into a fist as he pulled it back and watched his mistress continue her now weaponless and involuntary journey towards him. As he waited for his mistress to enter the range of his fist, he channeled the burning energies from his heart, through his arm, and into his fist where he could the energy build up. He threw this final punch when the moment was perfect and watched as it traveled in slow motion towards his mistress's face. He willed it faster and faster as he put more force behind the punch. Slowly at first, then with increasing speed, his fist accelerated in the strange slow motion world he was in until it approached the normal speed for such an attack. Even when he felt his fist impact on her snout, he kept pushing more and more of the terrible energies inside him through his arm, into his fist, and through her head.

He watched as the blow halted his mistress's momentum completely and sent her crashing to the ground as time suddenly resumed its orderly progression. A great weariness came over him and he was forced to his knees due to exhaustion. Almost as rapidly, the side-effects of his gift left him as well. When he was finally able to raise his head and look at his mistress, he saw that she was on her back with one hand on her snout. He suspected that he had underestimated his mistress's durability and slowly tried to stand up so that he could continue the fight. Despite the fatigue he felt, he found that he was just barely able to stand under what little power had left. As he waited for the energy to walk to come back to him, he watched as his mistress sat up and look at directly at him.

To his surprise, she was no longer looking at him through narrowed eyes.

Suspecting the worst, he knew that whatever she had planned he now was powerless to resist it. However, when his mistress stood up and walked over to him, he could see that she was not angry with him. If anything, he sensed she was impressed with him. Again, he forced to endure the searching fingers of his mistress as she ran them thorough his hair in another attempt to find any horns. When she did not find any, he noticed that she frowned. Then, she grabbed his beast collar and pulled out the metal leash that was still attached to it. Next, she wrapped the leash around both her hands and pretended to pull it apart a few times while speaking two words of which he understood one, "this". The other, he speculated, meant "break".

He was certain that she wanted him to try to break the metal leash one more time. Although he was completely spent, he knew he had the ability to summon his gift at least twice in a single day. Reluctantly, he took the leash from his mistress's hands and wrapped it around his. He closed his eyes and began to summon his gift. Its appearance was slow at first. But, the more he focused on every messed up thing that had happened to him since arriving on this alien world the less tired he felt. From the theft of his hat and his birthday present, to being subjected to the scavenger packs, to the trio of strange folk that haunted his dreams. Everything was fuel for the fires that burn inside him. At first, he sensed there was just mere spark, which grew into a flame, and after what seemed a long time, he could feel a raging bonfire burning inside himself.

He could feel his heart beat faster and faster until he was certain it was about to jump out his chest. Then, it began slowing as the strange alteration in his perception of time that his gift provided came into being. Upon opening his eyes, he saw the metal leash through a red film. He sensed the savage inside hated the small length of chain just as much he did and that it wanted nothing more to be finally free from it. Upon finding himself agreement with his other self, he brought both his leash wrapped hands together and focus everything on pulling it apart in the same manner as he did when he recently punched his mistress.

Time seemed to come to a stop as he willed his hands apart, pouring every bit of his being in separating his fists. At first, he spied a tiny gap appearing between his fists. Then, he could see the chain between fists beginning to straighten as they increasingly separated with ever increasing speed. After what appeared to him to be nearly a minute of this slow motion physics experiment, the metal leash finally went taunt. Faced with the moment of truth, he kept willing his fists apart. As he did so, he sensed that his mouth had opened and hot air was escaping it. Dimly aware he was screaming at the top his lungs, he noticed that one of the links of the chain had pulled open. Then, another link had begun to fail in the leash.

Finally, he saw all the links break apart!

As he fell to his knees again, he sensed time rapidly reasserting its orderly passage upon him again as all of the other symptoms of gift disappeared. Then, he noticed his hands were aching badly and when looked at them he saw that the metal leash had embedded itself into the flesh of his fists. It was with some measure of pain he pulled the leash out of out of the grooves the leash had cut into them. Once his hands were finally freed from the hated chain, he looked up at his mistress and saw something he had not observed in a long time.

Her blood color on her cheeks had reappeared.

He attempted to stand up again, but soon felt his mistress helping him back onto his feet. He stood before her and watched she kept staring at his hair. He barely had to time to react before he felt her fingers searching through is hair one more time. When his mistress fail to find what she was looking for again, he saw her frown and then look very thoughtful for a few moments. He knew that she was trying to figure out what he was and made a guess of what her response would be when his mistress finally figured out that he was not one of her people. Too tired to do any about anything, he silently waited for his mistress's final judgment.

When he saw that his mistress finally looked up at him from her thinking, he mentally prepared as well as possible for her judgment. However, when he felt her arms wrapped around him, thereby trapping his arms against his body he realized that his mistress had been thinking of something more tender than what he was contemplating. Her unexpected kiss caused him to attempt to resist the amorous embrace at first, but he soon gave up and let his mistress have her way with him. The experience was not unpleasant at all and, on the whole, he found it to be rather enjoyable.

Once she was finished with her hugging and lip locking, he watched as his mistress searched for and find her sword. Then, he was helped by her into the cave. There was not much meat left for the two of them, but he shared what little there was. After the meal, he did his best to listen to her talk. Based on the pronouns she was using, he could determine that she was telling him of her adventures while trying to find the merchant. At some point in her story, he realized she had been successful in locating the person in question based on all of the trade banter and phrasing she was using, but her frown told him that merchant had already sold him to another one of the strange folk.

At this point in her story, he noticed his mistress had become agitated. Again, she pounded her fist against the floor of the cave as she spoke several unpleasant words. Based on the surround words around these curses, he speculated that she was telling him about someone. After that, he quickly lost the narrative and tried to convey that to his mistress. When he was finally successful in communicating his lack of understanding, he watched as his mistress sat in quiet thought for a few moments. Suddenly, he saw her point to the corridor that led into the back chamber and speak a word slowly and repeatedly.

He turned his head in the direction pointed and thought about the wall of small figures. One by one, he made hand motions to simulate various weapons he remembered these tiny figures wielded. Axes, spears, swords, and bows all generated the same one alien word response from his mistress, "no". Furthermore, with each negative response he sensed her patience thinning. However, his mistress surprised him a second this night by keeping her cool and using her hands to simulate the weapon of his buyer. He watched carefully as his mistress held up one of her arms to him and made fist with three fingers extended. Then, she placed her other hand against her elbow and extended three fingers from that hand.

With one look of the weapon his mistress was simulating, he realized who had purchased him.

He closed his eyes and frowned. From the wanted posters, to the trio of strange folk he kept seeing in his dreams. Everything was starting to make too much sense. He soon felt the arms of his mistress around him and he did feel a bit better as a result. Upon opening his eyes, he felt the need for sleep and attempted to return his place in the cave. But, he quickly felt the arms of wrap around him and prevent his departure. Quickly, he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness and as he succumbed he felt the hands of his mistress guiding his head down onto her lap. Once there, slumber came to him quickly.

He awoke from same dream he always had and in the arms of his mistress. Based on the sounds he was hearing, she was still asleep. He thought about the images he saw in the prophetic clouds and began thinking about them. In one cloud, he saw someone armed with a sword and lantern following a rainbow path in a cavern about to fight a group of strange albino beasts. In another, he saw a huge dragon from this world guarding a platform quite similar to the one that brought him to this world. The strangest cloud of all, showed him the image of what appeared to be a king sitting on a throne made from large bones. What struck him as peculiar about this last vision was the slave collar around the king's neck, wrists, and ankles. His dream had ended with the same trio he had been seeing for seasons, but what he had seen in the other clouds gave him hope that they would not be the end of him.

He wriggled his body around until he could see the light coming around entrance boulder. Based on the angle it was entering the cave, he guessed the time was late afternoon. Knowing that his mistress would wake soon, he decided to remain in her arms until she did so. As he waited, he thought about absconding from this place with her and finding somewhere else to live. However, he knew from personal experience what was depicted in the strange clouds of his dreams had the annoying habit of coming true. Faced with this reality, he made the choice to enjoy what time he had left with his mistress until the day of reckoning came.

He discovered that life with his mistress, especially with the more affectionate side of her more present than ever, was not easy. He found her to be clingy to the almost to point of being stifling. As before, everywhere he went his mistress would follow, even into the light of the red sun, and whatever he did she would try to do as well. While this behavior on her part was useful in some circumstances, such as teaching her how to cook meat without burning it, he quickly discovered there were drawbacks as well. First, of which, he had little alone time. The second drawback was that his mistress was quick to pick up on any of the less than gentlemanly words that escaped his lips when he experienced a moment of frustration.

As the months passed, he slowly built up his vocabulary of words by listening to her stories and was eventually able to have very simple verbal exchanges with his mistress. However, for every new word he learned, his mistress seemed to pick up yet another curse word in English. Even worse, she would repeat her newly learned word in various ways, like a naughty child would, until he reacted to her. Then, whenever their relationship shifted over to the rivalrous one, his mistress would let him know all of the four letter words she had picked up thus far with great delight. He quickly learned that these verbal assaults were a prelude to the more physical kind and during the battles that followed, despite his best efforts at avoiding doing so, his mistress would force him to manifest his gift again and again until it became second nature for him. Not all their rivalry was spent in combat, there were often one-sided competitions between them. Although he lost most of these, his talent at learning from his mistakes and finding loopholes in the contests between them enabled him to score a victory every now and again.

He quick to notice that whenever he managed to best his mistress, she was all the more affectionate towards him when their relation changed back. Seeing how his actions made her happy was all the motivation to continue trying to beat her when opportunity arose. Wether it was hunting the largest of beasts or facing her with a sparring club in hand, he never stopped trying to better himself. However, in the rare moments he was alone, his thoughts were fixated on the trio of strange folk that always appeared in his dreams and how to defeat them. Every gambit he could come up with resulted his death or defeat as he played their predicted encounter out in his head. Frustrated by his inability to solve this problem, the tattered remains of the once thick hide on the cave wall bore the burnt of his anger.

As the seasons passed, he began to understand his mistress more and grew even closer as a result. The only thing that kept him aware of the passage of time was his ever-growing hair. He had neglected it until it had gotten long enough to completely cover his eyes. While he had considered cutting it, he was curious how he would look with longer hair. When he sensed that his second birthday on this alien world arrived, he barely noticed it and there was no sense of homesickness or anguish over the world he had left and for a time, he was quite happy.

Until, one night, he awoke to the screams of his mistress coming from outside the cave.


	55. Reckoning

He instantly got onto his feet and rapidly approached the mysteriously rolled aside entrance boulder while wearing nothing more than his trousers. Once he made his way outside the cave, he came to sudden stop as he saw the Behemoth, the Merchant, and the Overseer watching his mistress fighting off the crowd of strange that were attempting to overwhelm her. He quickly slipped behind the entrance boulder and watched his mistress behead two of her attackers before impaling a third through the upper torso. He noticed that this final attack of his mistress proved to be her downfall since her weapon was now useless due to being buried her last victim's body. Without a blade to defend herself with, he knew his mistress was now at the mercy of her foes.

He nervously watched her get grappled by the four remaining strange folk and dragged before the Behemoth and forced kneel. Seeing his mistress humbled in this manner provoked strong and protective human emotions in him and he struggle to remain focused and in control as the fires within himself began to build. Once he felt he had a grip on himself, he analyzed the situation. The fact that the strange folk brought such overwhelming numbers to subdue his mistress and even bothered to retrieve her sword from their fallen brethren and return it to its sheath gave him the small hope that they would not cull her. They were, as he suspected, after someone else. How they managed to found him and his mistress still eluded him.

As the four strange folk struggled to keep hold his mistress, he watched as the Merchant and the Overseer left and returned with their possessions. The first thing he saw enter the clearing around his mistress's cave was an impressively large musclebest with all sorts of packs slung over its well-built frame. Among the packs was another one of the small cages he had seen before. The small hide covered hands attempting to force the metal cage's bars apart told him who was inside it. Following the musclebeast, he observed a gang of slaves attached to their chain via the slave collars around their necks. He noticed that one of the slaves looked a lot like the yellow blooded slave he had fed back at the communal camp so long ago. What most caught his eye were the beast and slave collars the Merchant and Overseer were holding.

A sudden deep growling coming from the Behemoth forced him to focus on both his mistress and the Behemoth as they began to converse. At first all that came out his mistress were the very unladylike words he had heard before. But, the defiance she was showing quickly disappeared after the Behemoth placed a single hand on her head and started squeezing it. As the thick ropey muscles in the behemoth's arm and bulged, his mistress began screaming out in pain. Again, he struggled to keep his cool as the urge to retrieve his metal spear and hurl it the behemoth built. The urge only subsided when he realized that such a plan, if successful, would only result in him facing six of the strange folk unarmed by himself. He knew that the only way he was going to retain his hoped for freedom was to wait for an opening he could exploit.

As he fought the growing flames inside him, he listened to the now more polite words his mistress spoke towards the Behemoth. With this sudden change in tone on part of his mistress, he watched the Behemoth released her head and adopt a more relaxed posture. Despite all the new words he had learned from her these last few seasons, he still found it difficult to get the gist of their conversation. From the Behemoth's mouth he kept hearing the words for "break" and "deal/trade". This matched what he already knew of his mistress's failed attempt at buying back him from the Merchant. However, he also kept hearing a few other words that he had learned recently that dealt with time. Based on these two clues, he got the impression that his mistress had failed to deliver on her end of whatever bargain she had struck with the Merchant and, now, the Behemoth was here to collect.

Next, he heard the alien words that indicated location being spoken by the behemoth to his mistress followed by his moniker, "beast". He knew his mistress was lying when heard her speak the words for "no(t) here", followed by "culled". He felt a knot form in his stomach when his ears picked up that last word. Despite his limited understanding of their language, he realized that by using the word "culled" instead of "killed" his mistress had inadvertently revealed her opinions on what she thought he was. He detected a sudden change in the posture of Behemoth. Instead of the relaxed aloofness from before, the behemoth, now visibly angry, produced an article of clothing and threw it in front of his mistress. After shifting his position around the entrance boulder a bit, he finally got to see what it was that the Behemoth put in front of his mistress. It was a hooded jacket made from hides and there were no holes for horns in the hood.

The knot he felt in his stomach doubled when he finally recognized that piece of clothing had once belonged to him!

Guilt assailed him as he realized it was himself who led how the trio were able to find him. A self-incriminating scenario played out in his mind. The prairie fire he had caused brought investigators, who in turn, found his jacket and any tracks he left. With those two clues they knew the general area to search and once they discovered the feral child and saw that it had been taught basic survival skills by someone, then all they had to do was to "encourage" the child to seek help from the being who had educated it. He focused on the Behemoth again and noticed the numerous stab wounds and cuts on the behemoth's arms. The indigo blood that leaked from them was all the evidence he needed to know his assumptions were correct. He clenched his teeth as the realization that the strange thoughts in his head were trying to help him all this time. If he had culled the feral child as he was ordered to do so, then maybe his mistress would not be on her knees explaining to the Behemoth why she broke the deal to hand him over.

Where concern for his mistress could not spur him into action, guilt and shame almost succeeded. Again, he fought the urge to pick up any one of his weapons in the cave and begin attacking the villains that had their hands on his mistress. However, he already knew that plan would not work. For the past few seasons, he had played countless battle scenarios in his mind how to win against the trio of strange folk that were in his dreams. But, in each one where he started with violence, the result was always the same: death or enslavement. Despite the incredible odds against him, he recalled there that were other images in the clouds as well and if they were of future events that involved him, then he would make it through this situation alive and still free. All he had to do was wait until the moment from his dream had come to pass. Only then, he would fight back.

He did not know if it was fate or somehow the universe had sensed his mental deliberation. But at the moment he found his resolve to keep his cool and wait just a bit longer, he heard the Behemoth speak the same series of words, of which he could only understand "Where" and "beast". Again, his mistress responded with the word for "culled". Suddenly, the Behemoth took a single step towards his mistress, grabbed her head again with one well muscled hand, and lifted her off the ground until her feet dangled in the air. Then, with the other hand, the fingers of Behemoth were thrust into the lower torso of his mistress. The resulting pained scream that came from her forced him to step out from behind the entrance boulder and scream a single word in the language of the strange folk.

"STOP!"

All at once, the strange folk turned their heads towards him and for that one brief moment in time, he felt like he had just just waved a bloody piece of meat in front a pride of very hungry lions. The Merchant's face went into a frown just quickly as the Overseer smiled so broadly that he could see very sharp teeth. His attention was soon drawn by the sound of his mistress being thrown the ground by the Behemoth. Whose next action was to reach down a rip something from her. Before the mountain of muscles turned to face him, he saw the Behemoth point at his mistress and command the four strange folk that had overwhelmed her previously to "cull". Instantly, the four began gleefully pummeling and kicking the doubled over form of his mistress.

Only then, did the Behemoth begin walking towards him. A part of him wanted to abscond at very moment, but he knew to do so would be pointless. As the massive mountain of muscle slowly advanced, he could feel shock waves through the ground. As if the Behemoth was intentionally punishing the ground with each megalithic footstep. One by one the symptoms of his gift manifesting started to appear and they got worse with each inch the Behemoth came closer. The Merchant and the Overseer gave the Behemoth a wide and respectable berth and then followed behind the well muscled strange folk. His vision increasingly became more red tinted has his heart raced faster and faster. Once the Behemoth had arrived in front of him, the well muscled strange folk threw down the object that was taken from his mistress. Then, the Behemoth pointed to it with an olive color stained finger and spoke a few words that he understood.

"Pick that up"

He felt his knees seemingly bend of their own accord as if both the imposing figure of the Behemoth and the flow of prophecy were conspiring together to force him to kneel. As he blindly reached for the object at his feet, he sensed this action was taking longer than it should. Through the overgrown hair that partially obscured his eyes, he looked around and noticed everything was running much slower than usual and became aware that the final symptom of gift, the alteration of his perception of time, had finally come upon him. Realizing he had all the time he needed to come up with something to overcome his foes, he looked down at the object he was reaching for to see if it could aid him in any way. He felt hope when he recognized what he was about to pick up.

It was his mistress's sword still in its sheath!

In all of the scenarios he played in his mind over the past few seasons, he never once considered the possibility that it would be the weapon of his mistress he would be picking up. He sensed the savage inside him desiring to pull the sword from its sheath and give the Behemoth a taste of its edge and he was strongly tempted to go along with such a plan, but the result all these mentally run scenarios told him that violence alone would lead to his enslavement or death. He fought against the violent urges and took a second, more careful look at what was going on about him.

He again looked through the overgrown hair covering his eyes at the Behemoth and saw that the well muscled strange folk was primed and ready for any attack. Behind the Behemoth, he noticed a broad sharp toothed smile on the Overseer's face and the frown on the Merchant and got the impression that the goods vendor had lost some sort of bet. He looked at his mistress's sword again and wondered why the Behemoth would give him the one object that would give him the best chance at prevailing over his foes.

Suddenly, he had realization that he was being tested. These strange folk, he realized, were unsure of what he was and in order to solve this dilemma, the Behemoth had concocted this little ad hoc trial to finally prove, one way or another, whether or not he was a beast, or something more. As his hand neared his mistress's still sheathed sword, he had a flash of inspiration. All he needed was to prevail was to get the Behemoth and the other strange folk to drop their guard and to do that, he needed to employ a new gambit. One that his prankster ancestor from the south would be proud of.

He decided to intentionally fail the Behemoth's test!

The instant his hand touched the sheath that housed his mistress's sword, he moved it quickly away from the sword's grip and until he came to the end of the sword's sheath. There he gripped the sheath and the sword it held tightly and raised the incorrectly held weapon above his head. Then, he screamed the alien word for "Stop!" again as he brought the sword's pommel down. He did not wait for a reaction, instead he raised the misheld weapon of his mistress up again and swung it clumsily at some debris on the ground while screaming the alien word for "sit".

He fell flat on his face as a result.

He quickly regained his footing and continued his over caffeinated chimpanzee routine. As worked through his vocabulary of simple command words, he began imitating his mistress's commanding tone of voice in a clear show of his mimicry prowess. As he became more and more engrossed with his tomfoolery, his ears picked of the first faint snickers coming from some of the assembled strange folk. Then, as the minutes passed, the snickering gave way to chuckling, and then, laughter. The only one of the strange folk who was not laughing was his mistress. The more he imitated her voice the increasingly angry she sounded as she repeated the word for "stop". Her protestations only added to the other strange folk's mirth. Just as he started to become exhausted from performing all his japery, he heard a deep and booming guffawing coming from the Behemoth.

He continued his antics, but risked looking at the strange folk through the hair that obscured his eyes. The ones who had been beating mistress had stopped and were now laughing up a storm. With a big toothy smile, the Merchant was now focused on the Overseer who was currently performing a face-palm maneuver. Most importantly was the Behemoth, who was partially bent over due to laughing so hard that that the mountain of muscle's eyes were closed and teary. He sensed the Savage inside himself wanting to strike at this very moment. He found no reason to disagree this time.

He kept up his shouting in his mistress's voice, but stopped dashing the wrong end of his mistress's sword against the ground. After pulling her weapon from its sheath, he noticed the sword's heft and feel match the sparring clubs' he had used so much perfectly. He silently thanked his mistress for her strict tutelage as he carefully inserted the weapon, edge up, in the narrow airspace between the Behemoth's arm and torso. Once the hilt of his mistress's sword was almost touching the guffawing Behemoth's armpit, he looked at his mistress.

The expression he saw on her face could only be described as grim satisfaction.


	56. Surrender

He closed his eyes and sliced upwards with his mistress's sword as he leaped vertically. As he made these two actions, he called upon every muscle fiber in his body and released the energies that his gift had managed to store in his body. He felt muscle parting, tendons being cut, and even bone separating through the blade of his mistress's sword as he ascended. Once he sensed that his vertical motion had ceased, he opened his eyes and raised the weapon of his mistress above his head and brought its blade down on the behemoth's other shoulder. Again, he felt the physiology of the Behemoth being radically altered as he channeled his strength and downward momentum into the strike. He went into a crouch as he landed, but he quickly recovered his footing by performing a pirouette. As he whirled, he applied the full length of the cutting edge of the sword in his hand against the neck of the Behemoth. Once his final attack completed, he automatically assumed a defensive stance for the reprisals that he was certain were coming his way. But, he quickly realized that he had not even bothered. Before him, he saw the headless and limbless torso of the Behemoth remain standing for a few moments before crashing down and spraying him with a gout of indigo colored blood.

He quickly shifted his attention to the Merchant and the Overseer and noticed they were still holding beast and slave collars. Both their jaws were hanging open in sheer disbelief, and when they turned their heads to look at each other for guidance and mutual support, he sensed another opening to strike. Instantly, he leaped between them and made two swings with his mistress's sword at their throats before he touched the ground again. The coughing and gurgling sounds he heard on either side of him confirmed the lethality of his attacks as did the spray of teal and cobalt blood that rained on him.  
Now drenched in the blood of three different hues, he turned to the four strange folk that had been beating his mistress and pointed her sword at them. He attempted to show these ruffians mercy as he attempted to speak their word for "GO". But, that was not what came out of his mouth. As he inhaled to speak the alien syllables, the realization and exhilaration of having so brutally vanquished three of the strange folk with only five attacks came upon him. As a result, he inhaled much more deeply than he had intended. When his diaphragm began to push the air in lungs out, his deep and very human concerns for his mistress latched onto this vocalization as well. Once this column of emotionally charged air finally reached his vocal cords, he suddenly realized that these four strange folk knew where his mistress's cave was, and that he could let any of them leave here alive. The result of all these powerful feelings inside him was not intelligible speech.

Instead, it was the most terrifying sound the human form could generate.

Instinctively, he knew he would be fighting at a disadvantage if attacked the four before him all at once. For a few moments, both he and the four strange folk remained still. He would have assumed that the alteration in his perception of time had progressed further if it were not for the sudden change in the breeze which caused the leaves of the closest trees to dance. As the wind blew past him, it carried the familiar scent of his mistress's blood and the not so familiar smell of the four strange folk's sweat. He also detected a third element in the breeze so he inhaled again. He needed a moment to be sure, but when he finally recognized the mysterious scent as fear, he smiled wickedly.

He found the aroma far more inciting than well cooked meat and when he made one determined step towards the four thugs around his mistress they began to absconding the instant his foot touched the ground. Upon seeing their disorderly retreat, he felt his hunting instincts kick in and felt a compulsion to pursue the escaping prey. At the same time, he sensed the savage inside him agreeing with him in wanting to kill all of them. Not just for what they did to his mistress, but for sport as well.

As he began sprinting towards panicking four, he noticed one trip and fall face first onto the ground. He spotted the opportunity for a quick cull and took advantage of it by leaping onto the prone figure's upper back with the point of his mistress's sword making first contact. Feeling the body beneath him go limp, he pulled the sword free of the soon to be corpse and resumed his chase. He ran after other three and slowly caught up to them, despite their greater speed, due to his superior knowledge of the paths in the local area. As he neared the three remaining strange folk, he noticed that one of them was not watching where they were running, instead this one kept turning their head to look at him again and again. Looking ahead, he spied a large tree in the path of the remaining three strange folk. Seeing another chance to cull another of them, he began screaming random commands at the top of his lungs to keep the attention of his target. He watched as the other two ran around the large tree. However, his target refused to break eye contact with him and ran right into it. He rapidly closed the distance with his stunned target and, with a quick stab through the upper back, he finished off another of the strange folk.

He pulled his sword from the corpse and tree and ran around the trunk to continued the chase. He noticed that the remaining two he was now running after had an impressive lead over him. He began to wonder how he was ever going to catch up to them when he noticed a bit of olive colored blood on the ground. As continued his chase he saw the olive color at regular intervals on the ground. Looking at his fleeing prey, he observed they were so focused on escaping that they were crashing through the undergrowth and into any low branches that happened to be in their way. This same undergrowth, he knew from experience that often concealed sharp and spiny surprises he long ago learned to avoid. Realizing the blood he was seeing was not his mistress's, he redoubled his efforts at catching the two remaining strange folk and to encourage them to keep making foolish mistakes, he resume screaming random commands at them.

After a few more minutes of pursuit, he noticed that the olive colored blood splatters were getting larger and that one of the two grey humanoid forms ahead of him had developed a bit of a limp. Upon noticing the injury, he singled out that particular strange folk and slowly narrowed the distance between himself and his prey. However, once he had got within a few dozen paces of his target, the wounded strange folk suddenly stopped. Suspecting something was up, he raised his mistress's sword up to provide a defense against whatever was about to happen and continued slowly approaching his foe. He noticed there was little reaction from his injured foe other than breathing heavily which continued until he stepped into his foe's leaping range. Suddenly, the head of wounded strange folk quickly snapped in his direction. On its face was sheer contempt and as his foe had leaped at him, he realized that this injured strange folk had been summoning its hate fueled strength to augment its fists.

Thanks to all the sparring with his mistress, he easily dodged the pouncetackle and gave his foe a slash from his mistress's weapon in retribution. The speed at which his foe quickly stood back up confirmed his earlier speculation. He remained focused as the injured strange folk began a series punches and kicks. As he parried and countered these attacks, he came to appreciate the three feet of razor sharp metal he held in his hands and all the advantages it gave him. Despite all the hate fueled strength of his foe, he saw firsthand that fists were no match for his mistress's sword, no matter what great and terrible strength was backing them. Once his foe was sliced, slashed, and hacked into doll rags, he administered the final stab through the upper torso to finish off his opponent.

Once he pulled his mistress's sword out of the dying strange folk at his feet, he looked around for his last target. But, he all he could find was the trail of destruction his absconding foe had left behind. He followed this trail easily enough, but let out a frustrated sigh when he eventually came to the edge of the woods. He surveyed the terrain that lay beyond the woods and under the light of the green moon, he spotted a grey humanoid figure still fleeing quite some distance away. As he watched his last foe slip away into the darkness, he noticed that this one was also unarmed. He took a moment to ponder the fact that all of the strange folk he encountered this night that had no weapons with them or on their person. After a few minutes of thinking, he had a good guess why all his foes were unarmed.

They were obeying orders to capture him alive!

He knew that his failure to catch and cull all of the strange folk meant that the secret location of his mistress's cave would spread far and wide and that he could no longer live in the cave he had considered home any longer. He hoped that his mistress would understand this and be willing to come with him as the thought of striking out on his own did not sit well with him. He looked at where he saw the absconding strange folk and accepted that he could do nothing more he could about the one that got away. He reluctantly gave up his hunt and began jogging back to his mistress's cave.

He found his mistress, face down, just a few feet from where the Behemoth had thrown her in a small puddle of her olive blood. After examining the many hand and boot prints around her, he became aware that his mistress had tried to stand several times in his absence. But, she was unable to rise under her own power for some reason. He recognized this development as bad sign and grabbed one of his mistress's shoulders to turn her over. The surprisingly powerful punch that his mistress blindly threw at him when his hand touched her gave him a small measure of hope since she still had the will to fight. He made several more attempts at helping his mistress and was able to get her into a sitting position. Then, he saw the source of her bleeding was the wound in her lower torso.

He dropped his mistress's sword near her and ran into the cave and frantically searched for the metal needle and length of spider-silk thread so that he could stitch his mistress's wound close. After finding what he needed, he ran out the cave and sat next to his mistress and began threading the metal needle with the spider silk. As he did so, he kept hearing his mistress repeat a single alien word over and over again, "Stop". Ignoring her commands, he got the needle threaded and moved his hand with it towards the bleeding wound on his mistress's lower torso. A powerful slap across his face was his reward. As the outline of her hand on his face throbbed painfully, he watched as his mistress looked at him as if he was being idiotic again and, then slowly pulled up her clothing to expose her midriff. With her clothing no longer covering her injury, he saw the ragged gash the Behemoth had given her was more than a simple impalement. Based on the entrails he saw that were partly hanging out of her body, he came to one inescapable conclusion.

His mistress had been partially disemboweled.

He quickly understood that her injury was far beyond his skill to heal and reluctantly put away the needle and thread. He then frowned as he slowly realized that his mistress was not going anywhere for the foreseeable future forcing him to mentally debate whether he should he stay and care for her or leave before reinforcements showed up. When his mistress spoke a few words to him, "pick me up", he was thankful for the distraction. He pulled one of her arms over his neck and pulled her onto her feet while she used her sword as an improvised cane to aid in the maneuver. He waited patiently for her issue her next command. After a few moments, she pointed to her cave's entrance and spoke the words for "Go there". Again, he obeyed and helped her into her cave. Once inside, she pointed to the dark corridor that led into the back chamber. After stopping at the cooking fire for a lit piece of firewood, he helped her into the down the corridor and into the back chamber.

Upon entering the back chamber, he noticed her finger was pointing at the false wall that hid her most treasured possessions. Although he did not know what her plan was in guiding him to this spot, he helped her across the back chamber and pulled the stone panel away from the wall to expose her most important valuables and then listened for her next command. Again, she spoke to him while pointing at the two strange kettles, "pick up this and that". As he retrieved the two requested objects, he felt their liquid contents sloshing about unpleasantly. By the time he had removed both kettles from the hidden space he noticed that his mistress was no longer beside him. Instead, there was an olive smear on the wall next to him and when he followed it, he saw that she had made her way to the map wall. Again, heard her speak the words for "pick up and take here". He assumed she wanted her kettles and brought them to her. However, once he was near her, she repeatedly spoke the alien word for "here". At first, he was confused by this command since he was already next to her. That all changed when he noticed that she was pointing to something on the wall map.

After bringing the burning piece of fire wood closer, he saw that his mistress was pointing at the butterfly symbol.

His heart sank, not because she was expecting him to carry two kettles filled with only-god-knows-what across an entire continent. Rather, the fact his mistress had to ask him to do this favor for her meant there was only one reason that she would not be able to make this trip. His mistress was dying! Anguish came over him as he finally accepted the terrible truth he had been deliberately avoiding since he first saw the Behemoth injure her. These sad feeling soon boiled over into anger as he clenched his teeth. Soon, he was pounding the wall next to him with his fist as all his mistakes were laid bare in front of him.

Suddenly, and unexpectedly he felt the hands of his mistress on his shoulders. Slowly they ran up towards the beast collar on his neck and stopped. He looked at his mistress wondering what she was intending to do. On her face was a look great anger and fury. At first, he was completely baffled by this sudden change in her mood. But, the answer came to him a few moments later when she screamed out and freed his neck from the beast collar with her bare hands. As he rubbed his newly emancipated neck for the first time in years, he heard his mistress speak a sequence of alien words. Which he was able to translate all the words as "I knew you were no(t) a beast".

As he mulled over the alien phrase in his mind, he felt his mistress suddenly embrace him. He put one arm around her and held her close. As the minutes passed, he felt his mistress getting heavier as she weakened from her injury. He did his best to control his mistress's descent to the cave floor and landed her in a sitting position with her back against the wall. Before he could pull away, he felt the hands of his mistress suddenly seizing his head and pulled it towards hers. Once face to face, he enjoyed one final goodbye kiss. As the flames of the lit piece of firewood slowly dimmed, he felt his mistress shoving the handle of her sword into his hand. Once he grabbed it, he felt her steer the tip of her sword at the one spot on her anatomy that would grant her a quick and clean death. He waited until the only light source in the room to die completely.

Then, in total darkness, he ended his mistress.

He slowly got up and walked around the completely dark chamber in daze for quite some time. At first, he felt numb inside. Then, he felt tears running down his face. As he continued pacing, around a feeling of injustice began gnawing at him as he thought about the reality that this world and its inhabitants had managed to steal yet another precious thing from him. With this restless feeling came the urge to do something about it and to find some way to take back what he had lost. Just as the righteous indignation he was experiencing was about to spill over into something much worse, he accidentally kicked the corpse of his mistress. He calmed down somewhat when he realized what he had done. After thinking what to do about her remains, he decided he would give her corpse the funeral rites of both her world and his.

Other than stripping the body of decease of its valuables, he could not come up with any death rites strange folk gave to their dead. He dragged the body of his mistress out of the cave and searched through her clothing and came up with surprisingly little in the way of jewelery or other mementos. He had no way of knowing for sure, but he peculated that what baubles his mistress had possessed were bartered away during her personal quest to undo the bad trade she had made. The only items she had retained until the moment she died was the stylish, but serviceable hat still impaled on her horns and the fire-starting tool she always used.

He quickly pocketed the fire starting tool and went for the hat next. He felt a bit like an indian giver as he slowly removed the piece of head wear from his mistress's head. Once it was completely off, he took a few minutes to examine it for signs of wear and tear. He was amazed at the condition her hat was in. Except for the two horn holes in it, the hat had been meticulously cared for. As he turned the hat this way and that, he could easily see that his mistress had truly appreciated it. So much so, she had at some point during the last two years completely replaced all the stitching that held the hat together with spider silk thread.

As he placed the hat on his head and reclaimed it as his, he felt a bit more human.

With the body stripped of its wealth, he thought what type of human funeral arrangement he could make for his deceased mistress. He quickly ruled out burial and entombment as the there were many local beasts that could easy dig into such a grave or defile any stone enclosure he could construct. Furthermore, polluting the dew pond above the cave with a burial at "sea" was also quickly rejected. By using the process of elimination he came to one method of disposing his mistress's body in a dignified way, cremation!

Armed with a plan, he began running into and out of the cave with armloads of firewood. He quickly built the base of his mistress's funeral pyre and then dragged her corpse onto it. Then, he completely covered her body with more firewood with a few more arm loads. Next, he gathered up all the dried matter and tinder in the area to make sure the fiery send off he was about to give his mistress would go off without a hitch. Despite all his efforts, he still had doubts that his cremation would be successful. Suddenly, he remembered that he possessed on more substance that would guarantee his mistress's combustion and entered the cave more time to retrieve his supply of the highly flammable adhesive. He cleared off some of the firewood that covered the body of his mistress and poured the sticky napalm like fluid over her body. Unfortunately, he ran out of adhesive just as he got to her head. After replacing the fire wood back over her body, he used her sword and the fire starter to set his mistress's funeral pyre aflame. He took a moment to admire his handiwork, then he recalled there was one final rite he had to perform.

He returned to the cave, walked over to the cooking fire, and reached up into the opening above the fire to get a small amount of soot. Then, he took another piece of burning firewood and entered the back chamber. Once there, he searched the wall with the small figures all over it for the one belonged to his mistress. Once he found it, he reached for his mistress's figure with his soot covered fingers. Suddenly, he stopped and noticed there was change in his figure on the wall. Instead of the grey skin from before, his mistress had altered his figure to have pink coloration for skin. Other than that one change, everything else was still the same. He wondered what this change meant and recalled her last words to him. In a flash of insight, he realized that at some point his mistress figured out that he was not one of her people and understood, somehow, he was not a beast either. He experienced the terrible sense of loss again when he realized she still desired to be with him despite this discovery of hers and that the relationship they had together was far more genuine than he had originally thought. Fighting back the tears that threatened to come forth, he crossed off his mistress's figure with the soot on his fingers and with that sorrowful task fulfilled, he ran out of the cave.

With her sword in hand, he ran towards the funeral pyre and tried to get at her body. But, he soon realized that he had built it too well since the heat coming from it was already too much for him to tolerate. Getting desperate, he circled around and found the spot where he had laid the head of his mistress and found it to be was approachable. He braved the smaller encroaching flames and cleared the partially burning firewood and tinder away from her head. Although much of her face was already burnt, he reached into the pyre with one hand and grabbed a fist full of his mistress's hair and cut it free with her sword. Resisting the pain of his first-degree burns, he patted the smoldering hand full of hair out and knotted both ends of it. With his keepsake thus acquired, he cut open the lining of his hat and stashed the lock of black hair inside his hat so that he would always have a part of his mistress with him as long as he had this hat.

He watched the funeral pyre completely consume the remains of his mistress several minutes before he heard a metal chain rattling. He quickly looked over in the direction he heard the sound and became surprised what made the noise. The slaves he saw earlier this night were still where he had last seen them and based the expressions on their faces, they were looking at him and his mistress's pyre completely baffled as if they had never seen a funeral before. He briefly wondered why they had not absconded when they had the chance and quickly got his answer when he saw their slave collars were attached to a single heavy chain. As he followed the slaves's master chain, he noticed that all, but one of the slaves one backed away fearfully as he walked by them. He easily understood their reaction since they had recently observed him slay their superiors.

That and the fact that he was still covered in their blood and carrying his mistress's sword.

However, slave who did not back away intrigued him. The more he examined this particular slave up close the more familiar looking this slave became. When finally noticed the yellow stains on the inward facing spikes of this slave's collar he knew this had to be the same slave whom he had fed long ago at the communal camp. This somewhat awkward reunion allow him to lower his guard a bit and not be so tense among these slaves. A quick comparison of the yellow blooded slave to the others revealed to him the differences between them. The biggest of which was the number scars. He knew all to well that this world often left its mark on those who managed to survive its challenges and it appeared to him that the familiar looking yellow blooded slave had more scars than all the other slaves combined. He wondered about this apparent mismatch in experience. He only reason he could come up with to answer why the strange folk would place one very experienced slave with the inexperienced was that it was a form of education. So that the more experienced slave would, hopefully, teach the less knowledgeable ones.

He walked around the yellow blooded slave to continue following the master chain and discovered that the chain ended under an incredibly massive boulder not too far from his mistress's cave. With one look at the boulder, he knew this was the handiwork of the Behemoth. The worry-some glow on the horizon told him that if did not intervene, then the slaves would be at the mercy of the red sun. Since he already had his fill of death for night and he was going to leave his mistress's cave for good, he decided to find someway to free the slaves. He looked around on ground and noticed the tracks of the Behemoth's musclebeast. Lacking any other clues, he followed them back to the clearing around his mistress's cave and found the creature on the other side of her funeral pyre, sitting on the ground, and touching the limbless and headless corpse of its former master.

He walked up to the grieving beast and spoke in a commanding tone the alien word for "Stand"! The musclebeast quickly got back on all four its feet, but stamped around angrily. He refused to be unnerved by this threatening display and locked gazes with the best. The musclebeast scowled right back at him and he got the impression that the loyal beast understood who killed its master. Still, he refused to budge an inch and kept staring down the heartbroken beast. Even when the musclebeast reared back and kicked towards him with its front legs, he did not move. Instead, he started contemplating what would be the most efficient method of killing the unhappy creature. Suddenly, the musclebeast seemed to get the message about its impending doom and calmed down. He noticed the change in the beast's attitude and calmly commanded it to approach by speaking the alien word for "come". The musclebeast solemnly looked one last time at the corpse of its former owner and then walked over to him.

He searched through the bags on the musclebeast. Despite the status of its former owner, he found the items left in the musclebeast's baggage were surprisingly spartan. He still threw away most of the items he found inside them away due to being useless to him, or being too alien to know what their function was. Eventually, he discovered the Behemoth's great bow, but the strength required to string it was beyond him. However, he did keep all the metal tipped arrows he found despite them being large enough to be fired from a ballista. He also decided to retain the small bag of coinage he found. While he knew he was unlikely to ever trade with another goods peddler, he also knew that with the right amount of filing, these coins could be converted into arrowheads as well.

As he searched the last bag on the musclebeast, he finally found something to help the slaves to escape their destiny with the red sun, a big metal hammer and several metal chisels. He took these objects to the slaves and tossed them at the feet of the yellow blooded one. He watched as this slave picked up the hammer and a chisel, looked at the increasing color on the horizon, and then back at him. Base on what he was seeing, the yellow blooded slave was experiencing disbelief, but that quickly changed. There was new facial expression he now saw that was appearing on the yellow blooded slave's face and it was something he had seen on his mistress's face more than one occasion.

Hope.

While the slaves were busied freeing themselves, he began taking the remain items he wanted or needed from his mistress's cave. The kettles belong to his mistress along with their liquid contents were the first things loaded into the musclebeast's bags. Next were his weapons, the metal tipped spear he had won, and his bow. The obsidian tipped arrows he made were then added to the metal tipped arrows that were already on the musclebeast. He also took the metal firewood axe and his mistress's metal tool set. Although he felt a little guilty taking the axe, he knew the slaves were fully capable of processing firewood with their bare hands if they needed too. The next items he loaded on the musclebeast were a few hides, several days worth of meat, his water-skin, the skull lantern, and his map. The only things he chose to leave behind were his stone, wood, and bone tools and quite a large quantity of hides and food.

As he exited the cave of his mistress for the last time, he observed some of the now freed slaves squabbling over various articles of clothing on the four dead bodies in the area possessed. He ignored their infighting as best he could and finished loading the last of the items he was taking onto the musclebeast. Behind him, he heard the last of the slaves celebrate their new-found freedom with a loud shout and watched as this former slave ran over to his mistress's funeral pyre and started to dance. Soon, he saw other slaves joining in on the fun. He struggled to keep the anger that this accidental display of disrespect from boiling over as he knew the slaves did not truly understand what were his reasons for cremating his mistress's body or the somber connotations of the ritual. If anything, he suspected since the former slaves had never seen a funeral before and they probably thought this was a party of some sort. To get the freed slaves to stop, he banged on the metal cage that was still attached to the musclebeast with his mistress's sword causing the feral child in it to screech once more. Then, he pointed to the cage with the sword and spoke three words to the slaves, "This one too!"

Instantly all the former slaves stopped and gave him looks of disbelief. He did not know if it was the sudden revelation that he could speak their language or if his request that was causing their surprised reaction. However, he was not in the mood to care. All he knew was that he was not going to make the same mistake twice and allow this feral child get in biting distance since he still had the scars from the last time he made that mistake. After a minute, none of the slaves made any motions and he could feel the anger inside him building up as a result of their lack of action. Again, he slapped the metal cage with his sword and repeated his previous utterance. This time it came out more like a command backed up with the threat of violence rather than a polite request. Catching himself, he finished up with pointing at the ground next to the musclebeast. Suddenly the yellow blooded ex-slave shouted out that sounded to him to be orders that caused the other slaves to run to the closest trees and into the woodworking area and return with several large branches.

He watched as the slaves slowly gathered around the metal cage and released the straps that attached it to the musclebeast's harness and tackle. Relieved that some action was finally taking place, he continued to watch as the freed slaves got ready to insert their branches into the cage. The instant they did so, the cage became animated as if it were possessed by demonic spirits. The recently freed slaves struggled to keep control of the cage's descent from the musclebeast's back, but he could tell by the growing amount of splinters pouring out of the cage that they were going to drop it and with a resounding clank and screech, his prediction came true. Fortunately, the door to the small cage remained shut and secure.

Again, the former slaves looked at him. He could not help, but noticed the fear in their eyes, but that did not stop him from tapping the door to the metal cage the sword of his mistress. After a few tense moments, he heard the yellow blooded ex-slave shout a few new orders. The few freed slaves armed with branches stabbed their branches into the cage and forcefully pinned the feral child inside it. Next, he watched the yellow blooded ex-slave open the cage and reach into it. What followed was a long and protracted extraction process in which the freed slaves took zero chances while handling the feral child and it reinforced the idea in his mind that the yellow blooded former slave was the closest thing that the other freed slaves had as a leader.

Once the feral child was completely out of the cage and pinned to the ground by tree branches, he watched the yellow blooded ex-slave pulled two pieces of burning wood from the funeral pyre and stand near the feral child. Then, he heard yellow blooded strange folk shout another command that caused the others to release the feral child. It was obvious to him the feral child absolutely livid, but the distraction provided the two pieces of burning wood the yellow blooded ex-slave possessed was enough to get the feral child to turn away from the fire and look towards the woods. He watched as it caught a glimpse of the trees and disappeared incredibly fast into them. He was not sure, but he thought he could hear the child laughing as it ran deeper into the woods.

With another look at the horizon, he knew that dawn would arrive soon. He turned to the yellow blooded ex-slave and pointed at the cave of his mistress and spoke a few words in the language of the strange folk, "Stay there, yours". Again, he received looks of shock from the all of the strange folk that heard him. But, he did not have to repeat himself this time as one of the freed slaves took advantage of his offer and entered the cave. The resulting happy exclamations that came out of the cave was all that was needed to draw the others inside as well. All, except for the yellow blooded freed slave. As he heard the others feasting on the leftover meat that was still in the cave, he looked at the yellow blooded ex-slave and got the impression that this particular strange folk wanted to travel with him. While there was part him that would have welcome the company. However, the death of his mistress was still weighing heavily on his mind and in the end, he shooed the yellow blooded strange folk into the cave. Then, he rolled the entrance boulder into place just as the first rays of the dawn began illuminating the area in front of the cave. Finally, he spoke four words to the yellow blooded strange folk, "Stay here, hunt here".

He turned away from the cave for the last time and walked over to where the sheath belonging to his mistress's sword was still on the ground and picked it up. After converting a strip of hide into a belt, the sheath and the sword in it hung comfortable at his side. Thus armed, he walked over to the musclebeast and waited for the red sun to completely rise. With everything taken care of and with nothing else to distract him, he began to replay the death his mistress over and over in his mind. With each iteration the sense of having something brutally stolen from him grew and by the time the red sun was completely above the horizon, his mood had blackened considerably. He suddenly found, with only a few exceptions, that he really hated the strange folk. In this single moment, he finally succumbed to the gnawing rage inside him and no longer cared if he would ever find a way back home or ever became a true gentleman. Instead, he found a new goal.

Revenge!

With that foremost in his mind, he swore the blackest oath he could that he would not rest until he had found a way to make the strange folk as a whole pay for the death his mistress. Suddenly, he felt the coldest chill he had ever experienced run through his body, but it soon replaced by the symptoms of his gift starting to manifest. Except, this time, he was no longer feeling any pain associated with his gift's appearance. Accepting this unexpected change, he looked at his map one more time and focused on the final task his mistress given him. Upon locating the butterfly symbol he traced a path across the continent back to where he was currently located. After rolling up his map, he ordered the musclebeast to "come". Behind him he heard the well muscled creature rise up and walk to him. As he started walking towards his destination, he noticed he had a rock hard grip on the handle of his mistress's sword.

With his next step, everything became blurry.


	57. The Last man on Earth

He fell to his knees as the world around him began shifting between two very different realities. Not sure of what was happening to him, he closed his eyes and patiently waited for reality to make up its mind. Eventually, he had the feeling that he was waking up and through his fingers, he could feel parched ground. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw that bloom of youth had completely vanished from his arms and hands, but the many scars he had acquired over his life still remained. Still unsure what had just happened to him, he raised his head and looked at the sky for the one thing that would settle the confusion in his mind. The star he saw in the sky was brighter, smaller, and whiter than the one that belonged to the other world. He took this observation as evidence that he had been reliving his past yet again. Understanding that there was little he could do about these episodes, he picked himself off the ground and became thankful he was back in the present again.

The last man on Earth took several deep breaths as he compared this latest hallucinatory spell to the previous ones he had suffered. The sheer realness of it exceeded what he had experienced before as did its duration as well. However, just like any dream, it all too quickly began to fade from his mind and the temptation to write it off as mere fantasy grew. Faced with this terrible seduction, he pulled the stylish, but serviceable hat from his brow and ran his fingers along its inner lining until he found a familiar lump. The last man exhaled slowly as he pondered the evidence before him. On one hand, he was thankful that he still possessed physical proof after all these years that his adventures as a younger man were not just his imagination running amok. On the other, he began to think about his mistress again and the circumstances surrounding her death. He quickly realized this was an awful mistake. Under all of the sorrow, remorse, and bitterness he still felt about his mistress's demise, he discovered there was still one more emotion remaining. An emotion he had thought that he put away for good after twenty years of civilized life and self cultivation as a gentleman.

RAGE.

Surprised, the last man on Earth experienced this feeling for a moment before it vanished. Despite this brief brush with this long vanquished personal demon of his, he found the physical effects on his body to be undeniable. As he placed one of his hand over his rapidly beating heart, he ran through his vast repertoire of calming techniques he had learned since returning from that alien and savage world. As he steadied himself, he hoped that this first encounter with this emotion in two decades was just a by-product of his returning memories and not the result of his current circumstances. With all of his other problems, the last thing he needed now was to transform back into the savage he became so long ago.

Seeking distraction, the last man turned his thoughts to the visions he had previously suffered and noticed that they, narratively speaking, were of memories of his great trek across the continent towards the butterfly symbol on the hide map he had created. These were not happy memories. In his youth he justified his misdeeds and the lives he took as simple survival. But, with two decades peaceful life now behind him, he now knew better. The loss of his mistress had affected him deeply and as a result, he left a multihued blood stained path in his wake interspersed with burning wagons and escaped slaves. He recalled that it was a rare week that one or more of the strange folk did not find their ends on the blade of his mistress's sword. Despite all this bloodshed, it was never enough fill the emptiness in his heart. He tried his best to figure out the duration of his journey across the landmass. However, since he lacked any sort of timepiece or calendar back then, the best estimate he could come up with was that it took him a bit over two years to reach his destination.

The last man on Earth looked at his wristwatch and froze when he saw the time. Two hours and sixteen minutes had passed since the last time he had checked the time. He found it incredible that he could relive years of his life in exacting detail in such a short span of time. So incredible, he found it easier to accept that his timepiece had malfunctioned. But, that hypothesis was soon thrown out when he raised his head high enough to see the multitude of boot tracks that crisscrossed the parched earth all around him in all directions. With a single glance he knew these tracks were his. As he took in this latest observation, he realized that he had not just recovered from a coma dream as a result of having fallen from his ramshackle windmill and hitting his head on the hard surface of his contraption. Instead, he knew that these all these tracks of his were evidence of yet another problem he developed, sleep walking!

The last man took a few moments to get a hold of himself again and then searched the local area for clues of his current whereabouts. Based on what he saw, he was still within a few miles of his windmill and home. Thankful he was not completely lost, he turned around to where the musclebeast that had been following him in his memories and noticed there was now a rather large tank in the beast's place. He knocked on it in a few places and discovered that there was a small amount of fluid still inside it. Sensing an opportunity, he cleared the dried out vegetation from around the tank's spout and slowly twisted the half rusted faucet open. Immediately, a small trickle of clear fluid started to slowly pour out. He quickly cupped his hands under the tank's spout and sampled the collected fluid. After a few inquisitive swirls, he identified the clear fluid as water and swallowed.

Upon seeing that more precious water was still coming out of the tank, the last man on Earth searched his wallet modus for a breast pocket flask and caught the reminder in it. Once he was finished with that task, he circled the water tank and thought it would make a useful addition to his windmill contraption. He gave the tank one final, but thorough examination and discovered that the water tank had hatch in its top big enough for a body to pass through it. He gave the hatch an experimental lift and discovered it was already open. After a quick look around inside the tank, he was convinced of the water tank's soundness and decided to bring it along with him via his wallet modus.

It was late afternoon by the time the last man arrived at his windmill and the water condensing contraption it powered. He took a few minutes to make sure his device had not been damaged by him mistaking it as some beast during his latest hallucinatory spell. His device seemed to be in order and when he examined the output port of his condensing contraption and found the small cup he had place there earlier had been completely filled. Some much so, he noticed that the excess water his cup had failed to contain had formed a muddy puddle on the ground. Curious about the purity of the water he managed to squeeze out of the air, he took a few sips and swirled his sample around his mouth a few times. The lack of a chemical taste indicated to him that there were no lubricants and other contaminants in the water. Now convinced the water in his mouth was safe, he swallowed. Although he was still thirsty, he again retrieved the breast pocket flask for his wallet modus and topped it off with the water he had collected. Once the breast pocket flask was back in his inventory, he cleared some debris away from his contraption and began the long process of deploying the water tank so that its hatch would be right under the output of his contraption. Finally, he opened the hatch of the water tank so that it could fill when the next time the wind picked up.

The wind seemed to sense his wishes and suddenly picked up, thereby causing the blades of the windmill to start turning. The last man on Earth eagerly-eyed the output of his contraption, but was soon dismayed when nothing came forth, despite the rapid spinning of his windmill. Based on the speed he observed his windmill turning, he quickly suspected that fuses he had installed had overloaded and after removing a few bolts from his contraption's fuse box, he confirmed his suspicions. He sat down to rest as he considered his options. While he did have spare fuses, what he really needed were some self-resetting circuit breakers. With those, he postulated, his contraption could continue to operate if the wind ever became too powerful while he was absent. However, to get what he needed he would have to go into the city. Since he was overdue to visit the graves of his loved ones, he decided such a trip was necessary. After conferring with sun's the position in the sky and the timepiece on his wrist, he knew he would not be back at his windmill until very late. Furthermore, after swapping the fuses out for the circuit breakers he knew the time would be well after midnight when he finally he got back home.

The last man turned around and stared at his humble home off in the distance. It was near the same quarry where he had found that passage that sent him away when he was younger. One of the first things he did after returning to Earth with a king's ransom in precious gemstones was to purchase the quarry and fill the secret passage and chambers with all manner of traps to prevent any of the strange folk of that savage world from ever reaching Earth's surface. But, after a year of guarding the quarry and its secrets, he realized that no invasion was ever going to occur and he should live life to the fullest instead of becoming a paranoid hermit. However, since the end of the world, his old fear that the strange folk would someday find their way to Earth through the very portal he had used had reawakened. For that reason alone, he chose to relocate and live on the outskirts of the city.

The last man on Earth set off towards his humble abode, but soon diverted his path to come near a very large boulder located near his dwelling. As he stood next to it, he thought the only other piece of physical evidence beneath this great stone that proved his adventures were real. Although he did not have his mistress's sword on him at the time, he found himself reaching for the deadly blade during a heated argument with the owner of a local magic and joke shop. The merry prankster had knocked his stylish, but serviceable hat off his head in a jest which, in turn, caused him to utter more than just a few strong words from him concerning the matter. Although the fun loving merchant quickly apologized for affront and amends were made, this situation convinced him to put his mistress's weapon somewhere where he would never be able to get to hold it.

This near disastrous encounter was also fortunate as well, as this proprietor of gags was also a member of a message board. Since he so freakishly devoted to his hat, the man that he eventually got to know as "pipefan413", recommended that he join this message board with the name "fedorafreak". The attire and business advice he gained through this small community over time helped him immensely with his personal quest to re-civilize himself. Suddenly reminded of the message board, the last man retrieved his gray, serviceable hand-held computing device and scanned its display for any fresh posts from any possible surviving members of the serious business message board. A fresh wave of loneliness came over him as he saw that the only new posts were from him.

As the last man resumed his trip into the nearby city on foot, he wished that he had someone, anyone, to interact with.


	58. The Empress

Far above the last man, a still functioning satellite kept watch. It followed its programming to keep up a continuous observation of the lone figure and relayed that information through countless other satellites, servers, and other still functioning pieces of the devastated Earth's internet. Until, it finally arrived at a hot pink clam shell personal computing device. Once there, the fresh information about the last man's current whereabouts and probable destination cause the hot pink device to vibrate and hum. However, this attempt at gaining the attention of its owner was all in vain. She was too busy massaging her throbbing brainpan which she had developed after a two hour continuous attempt to use her awakened mental manipulation powers.

The owner of the hot pink clam shell computing device picked it up to silence the annoying sounds it was making. In doing so she saw that the hot pink device was reporting to her what she already knew, her target was slowly getting away again. Just like all her previous attempts at disabling him, this last individual of the absurd species that had recently inhabited this world simply refused to fall unconscious. Furthermore, whenever her mind touched his, this lone figure would block her somehow. From where this lone figure had developed the skill and the sheer willpower to keep her blocked for two hours straight, the owner of the hot pink clam shell did not know. What she found stranger were the few symbolic images that she managed to glimpse through her target's mental defenses. She found them to be familiar, but quickly waved these images off as a result having lived on this word for far too long.

As her throbbing brainpain started to subside, the owner of the hot pink device finally decided to pay more attention to her personal clam shell computing device. As she watched her target continue to walk towards the nearby city, she expanded the scale of her view on the display of her clam shell device and then noticed the massive and strange spirographic pattern that the lone figure had inadvertently created during their two hour mental battle. She did not know what to make of this development and, instead, decided to go through her personal calendar while she waited for her brainpan to finally cease throbbing. It was still set to the sweeps system of her devastated home world. As she paged through the lists of various events and special dates that no longer had any meaning any more, the owner of the hot pink clam shell device came to one date that caused her to stop and take notice.

Today, was her wriggling day.

Despite having lived, undetected, among the indigenous people of this world for so very long, the owner of the hot pink clam shell device still clung to her own people's customs. Thus, she viewed this day not as a day of celebration, but as a day of reflection on all the mistakes she had made in her very long life. She became an empress a very long time ago both by birth and deed, but so much time had passed since she had been addressed as such that she wondered if she still deserved that title. In fact, she realized that in her current situation she was more like a slave due to her peculiar "employment arrangement" with her current boss that she entered into. Wondering where she went wrong, the Alien Empress picked up her hot pink clam shell device and opened the file that contained her personal journal and turned to the very first page.

The Alien Empress chuckled as she read the entries that her much younger self scribed so very long ago. Both the sheer naivety her younger self expressed and the obvious mistakes she made back then generated plenty of mirth to soothe her still throbbing brain pan. One such scheme involved the use of a mentally dominated dragon as a proxy to eliminate rivals discretely amused her greatly. While the idea had some merits, the Alien Empress of the present knew the drawbacks of this scheme of her past self would be slow reveal themselves. The Alien Empress continued reading her past self exploits and her eventual culling of the previous empress. As she poured over her earliest journal entries she was amazed at how little she remembered of her own past. While she did have some recollection of her earliest sweeps of her life, it was all jumbled up with the other accumulated memories of all her extremely long life. As she pondered her inability to clearly recall her own past history, the Alien Empress felt something that she was loath to admit to herself.

She felt old.

The Alien Empress continued to read her journal and the more she did so, the easier remembering her earliest memories became. However, with these old memories came all the emotional baggage that were attached to them. From the highs from all the dirty behind the scenes politicking, betrayals, and backstabbing that came with ruler ship to the burning humiliation she felt whenever one of her schemes came back to bite her in the nook. In particular, there one memory that the Alien Empress found shameful in the way her past self had handled it.

Just as she had predicted, the dragon her younger self had been commanding through her more mentally gifted allies had consumed so many of her enemies and their livestock that it had grown to huge proportions. So large that it had started showing signs that it was resisting the mental domination placed on it. Worse of all, it was now being worshiped as a god by the more gullible members of her own people! This scaly problem had gotten so out of hand that her younger self was forced to resort to feeding the ravenous creature her own allies once her list of enemies ran thin. Despite this serious setback, the Alien Empress recalled that her past self used the marauding dragon to providing as perfect reason for raising taxes to build a large enough army to cull the beast and to keep her allies under her thumb.

To complicate matters further, the mother grub had been culled mysteriously recently. Despite the culler's identity being completely unknown to anyone, her past self swiftly put the blame on the remnants of the former regime and began the replacement process for a new mother grub. While her past self would have eventually culled the mother grub so that she could better guide her people's genetic destiny, timing of this culling could not come at a worse time for her empire's treasury. Thankfully, she always had knack for finances.

The Alien Empress stopped her reading for a moment and closed her eyes. In her memories she was able to recall the countless petitions and meetings about the ever-hungry dragon and the creative bookkeeping required for the new mother grub. Eventually, an army was eventually raised to deal with the creature. But, she clearly recalled that the armed rabble never got their chance to deal with it. The Alien Empress shook her head vigorously in attempt to remember how the dragon got itself culled, but only succeeded in making her throbbing brain pan worse. Wanting answers, she resumed reading her personal journal, but glubbed in shock when she noticed that the dates and the subject matter on the next page of her personal journal suddenly shifted to a few hundred hundred sweeps into the future. The thought that somebody had censored her personal journal caused the Alien Empress seized her hot pink clam shell computing device with both hands as if she intended to shatter it!

She resisted the temptation to destroy one of the last remaining technological marvels of her civilization. Instead, the Alien Empress reopened her hot pink clam shell device and turned the device's focus back on to the lone figure still walking towards the nearby city. For moment she considered culling the individual personally to let off some steam, but she knew better than to act on the impulse. Although she was exiled to this world and forced to live among its indigenous population for over an hundred sweeps, the Alien Empress knew that this was not a proper invasion she was conducting. She had a plan and she needed another person for it to succeed. Furthermore, she needed to accomplish it all within a small window of time.

However to do that, the Alien Empress first needed to hitch a ride with her client player into the strange universe creation game. She had already taken unknown risks by acting as a server player and deploying the necessary game machinery for her client player. However, after she had finished this task, the human equivalent of a hive where she had place the various game devices had collapsed from the aftereffects of another nearby player entering their session of the game, which came in the form of a meteorite. Since that time, the Alien Empress wondered what were the ramifications of her actions would be since she knew the game had a will of its own and that it favored younger players. She felt uneasy as she gazed upon the icon for the client application for the universe creation game still present on her hot pink clam shell computing device's graphical interface. Despite her best efforts at deleting the application or burying it under a sea of other application windows, the symbol for the universe creation game client program would always reappear.

The Alien Empress did her best to ignore the bothersome icon.

With a quick hand gesture, the Alien Empress changed the focus of her clam shell computing device from her journal to the server window of the universe creation game, which was still open after all these months, only to find that the scene was still the same. Through the Sgrub server player window, she saw the remains of the collapsed human hive still covering the universe creation game's unique machinery. She again tried to move the peculiar machinery out of the rubble, but her client player did not possess enough of the game's resources to allow her to do so. Despite this failure, the Alien Empress noticed that the machines appeared to be undamaged. This development gave her some small hope that her scheme could still work. All she needed to do was to clear away the rubble and get this last human to interact with the game's machines without killing him. His death could come later if she needed or desired it.

As the Alien Empress pondered how best to bring this particular sequence of events into fruition, she examined the colorful majyyk aura that enveloped her body. She both liked and hated this strange gift she gained by defeating the Demoness upon her return to her home world. At first the Alien Empress regarded this power as a strange blessing, but soon learned that this gift of real majyyk was also a curse. Which came in the form of "employment". Despite the one-sided nature of her "employment", The Alien Empress always found it odd that her boss rarely interfered directly with her actions. Only when she attempted to directly defy her boss's direct orders that he ever intervened. Almost always by robbing her control of her own body and puppeteer it around until whatever task was demanded of her was completed. Of all the possible punishments that her boss could inflict her, this was the one the Alien Empress hated the most.

Thanks to all the conflicts over the sweeps, the Alien Empress had discovered a method of creating a small and short-lived gap in the apparent omniscience of her boss. It only occurred when she had to enliven the various vials of genetic material that was left of her people's gene pool with her unique life extending touch. It was one such vial marked with an indigo colored arrow in particular always caused her boss's presence to vanish for a small amount of time whenever she revitalized it. While this void lasted, the Alien Empress discovered she had free rein to cause whatever mischief she wanted until the mysterious void closed.

The Alien Empress changed her line of thinking back to the mysterious shimmering tendrils that covered her body and the other uses they had. Although she never was never trained in their use, she found the strange real majyyk that was bound to her body seemed to have a mind of its own and whenever she desired something or some result, no matter how frivolous or short-lived the thought, the real majyyk responded. She discovered to her dismay that this strange power always took the easiest route to fulfill her wishes. Because of this one annoying aspect, the Alien Empress learned to be very careful what she wished for and to do for herself whenever possible. However, whenever she needed something blasted or her appearance altered then the real majyyk proved quite useful.

Suddenly, the Alien Empress got an idea. She quickly switched the focus of her hot pink clam shell computing device back to her journal and wished that she could find the missing portion of her journal. Instantly, a tiny tendril of real majyyk reached out and touched the hot pink colored device. Suddenly the various application windows were moved aside as the hot pink clam shell computing device executed the most thorough file search in its existence. The Alien Empress tapped her foot as she waited. She had hunch who might have hidden her own past from herself, but she needed more proof to be sure. Suddenly, the hot pink computing device emitted a tone that it had found the missing journal entries. Curious at where they had been hidden, the Alien Empress looked at where the missing journal entries were currently located. They had been mislabeled as "Baking for complete idiots!" and stored among the endless digital cook books she had stored on her computing device. This was all the evidence the Alien Empress needed to confirm her suspicion for this attempt at censoring of her past.

It was her past self.

This was not the first time the Alien Empress had to match wits with her past self and based on their previous encounters, she was certain this time, like all other times, involved yet another cover up of some personal failing of hers or some past scheme of hers than went terribly bad. The Alien Empress let out a dejected glub out of sheer frustration. These attempts at redacting the more embarrassing moments from her own life, no matter how masterful done, always had one problem. They never worked! Thus, she was condemned to relive these shameful events over and over again as she rediscovered and reburied these embarrassing moments multiple times. Preparing herself for the worst, the Alien Empress opened the hidden portion of her journal. Only to find a small message dated to the start of her empire's first interstellar invasions followed by the heavily encrypted missing portions of her journal.

The message from her past self read, "There is nothing here worth reading or remembering!"

The Alien Empress refused to heed the warning from her past self and quickly activated an anti-encryption program on her hot pink computing device. Then, she frowned at the estimated time to the program reported back. Apparently, her past self had wrangled together every computing device in her empire and tasked them to create the most powerful encryption ever devised. While her clam shell computing device had considerable processing power, the Alien Empress knew that there was no way it could match the combined efforts of every computer in her empire at the near zenith of her people's civilization. Whatever shameful secret was hidden in the encrypted pages of her journal, she realized that it must have been a real dozy, otherwise her past self would not have gone through such extremes to keep it hidden from her future self. The Alien Empress pouted as she culled the decryption task on her computing device, then she perked up suddenly. If the hot pink clam shell device could not do the job, she thought, then perhaps the real majyyk powers she possessed could!

The Alien Empress stared at the hot pink clam shell computing device she was holding at arm's length and wished that the encryption placed upon the missing pages of her journal was broken. Again, a shimmering streamer of real majyyk stretched out and touched the display of the hot pink clamshell computing device and then exploded into a cloud of one's and zero's. The Alien Empress watched as the encrypted portion of her journal slowly transformed into to readable text. She observed that the process was not instantaneous as she expected, but it was acceptably swift enough as not keep her waiting too long. Once the encryption was finally defeated, the Alien Empress relaxed and began to read.

She saw that there a few more entries about the dragon problem her past self managed to create for herself, then the missing portion of her journal began documenting the arrival of three visitors within several nights of each other. The first was a traveling peddler of goods, small beasts, and other spoils of the hunt. Being on the upper middle tier of her people's blood colored caste system, this visitor was not allowed to directly speak to her past self or address the court directly and had to make contact through back channels. As she suspected, this merchant was trying to cash in on the bounty for any living strange creatures that could be used in the empire's lusus naturae ever expanding breeding program. Instead of attempting to pass off some poor beast that had over beast bodyparts sewn to it, this merchant was offering to sell a most unusual creature. A beast so unusual that the Alien Empress forced to stop reading so she could laugh out loud when she read that her underlings had the merchant imprisoned for telling for telling such obvious falsehoods.

Once, the Alien Empress recovered from her fit of mirth, she resumed reading. The next visitor that paid a visit to her court was a strange lesser noble who favored roughing it in the wild lands over lording an estate. The brute's requests for an audience with empress were swiftly denied. However, this petty noble still refused leave and became increasingly demanding as the hours wore on. Eventually, her past self was forced end this stalemate by imprisoning the muscle bound oaf at the cost of many of her personal bodyguards. As the brute was dragged off to join the merchant from before in the dungeon, this petty noble screamed out something about an unusual beast, a beast who could learn by watching. Again, the Alien Empress had to pause as she suffered another bout of laughter.

The third visitor, while not has high ranking as the now imprisoned noble, brought in something of great value which warranted an audience. At first glance, this visitor appeared to the victim of an armed robbery since most of the slaves and the grand wagon entrusted to this particular overseer were missing. But, the empress's past self quickly forgave the loss due to the prize the overseer managed to drag into her court, an orphaned high blood! Although the high blooded child's worth was greater than the loss of the large wagon or the slaves in the overseer's care that did not stop other members of her past self's court from questioning how such a loss could have occurred in the first place. The Overseer's explanation that an unusual creature had managed to free the orphan from its cage silenced everyone in the court. Her past self next recorded that the merchant and the noble were quickly freed and summoned to court so they could offer their testimonies.

The Alien Empress took a moment to relax before resuming reading her journal. What she had read thus far matched what she was able to remember and she began to wonder what was so important in this formerly encrypted portion of her journal. In the back of her mind she could feel an old half remembered memory beginning to coming back to her. The Alien Empress focused on this recollection and sensed there was something was very wrong with it. There was a lot of emotion attached to it and most of those feelings were not happy ones. The Alien Empress took a deep breath and decided that whatever this very old memory was of she could handle it now.

After all, she thought, what was in the past could never hurt her again.

The Alien Empress focused very carefully on the next journal entry. Her past self recorded the trio's testimony carefully and the schism it created within her court. The fact that this creature had a physical form similar to her people caused one faction to claim that this creature was simply a badly deformed wriggler that was smuggled out of the brooding caverns and allowed to pupate. Another faction soon assembled to oppose the first with a counter claim that this unusual beast was a newly discovered creature.

The Alien Empress paused her reading to massage her head some more as she regretfully recalled the seemingly endless debates that raged for sweeps between the two arguing factions in her court. Both sides had repeated their points and counter points so many times that the Alien Empress could still recall all of them verbatim and she thoroughly blamed her predecessor. The previous empress had spent the empire into ruin just so she could build an immense library that was forbidden to nearly all, but herself and a few of her closest allies. This library contained books on every subject ever known to her people, including manuals containing descriptions off every beast that walked, swam, or flew on Alternia! However, this extravagance cost so much that it was also rumored that the previous empress was forced to covertly sell wrigglers to the highest bidder just to keep the empire running. Due to the lack of any real information, both factions in her past self's court had strong reasons to believe that they were correct.

Once the Alien Empress was able to force back these unpleasant memories, she resumed her reading. The next entry detailed her past self's swift escape from the upheaval in her court. Once free of the endless debate, she had her trusted followers bring the trio to her private chambers for further questioning by her most skilled mentalist. One by one, each of the visitors were subjected to careful mental scrutiny. True to their castes, the noble was discovered to be truthful. However, the merchant and the overseer found to less than completely honest. Normally, such deception warranted culling, but the portions of their testimonies that rang true intrigued her past self. When confronted with the severity of their punishment, Both the Overseer and the merchant quickly changed their stories.

In case of the Overseer, her past self recorded that the overseer never personally saw this strange creature or its action directly. Instead, the Overseer reported that the slaves were the ones who reported what had happened after being sufficiently whipped. This change in the Overseer's story caused her past self to summon the slaves in question and have her best mentalist go through their memories too. Once this task was finished her past self noted what her mentalist had learned. Not only could this creature could tolerate the light of their sun and it seemed capable of understanding cause and effect. But, what most fascinated her past self was what happened after the unusual creature had opened the high blooded orphan's cage. The creature allowed the orphan to approach and, for a brief moment, bond to with it. It was this last trait that convinced her past self to acquire this unusual beast by any means necessary. She hoped that its gentle nature could be bred into the more violent lusuii.

When questioned further, the merchant reluctantly admitted to not being possession of the beast and that it was being cared for by an exile. Furthermore, the price this exile demanded for delivery of this beast proved troublesome. It was not gold or metal tools, or arms and armor, but mercy. Not the romantic kind, her past self thankfully recorded, but amnesty. This was heavy price to pay since both her past and present selves had an image as a cold and ruthless tyrant to keep up. But, if this unusual creature could be of any use in the empire's lusuii breeding program, then the deal was worth it, if creature was a beast and not some mutant.

The next entries in the missing portion of her journal described the planning and outfitting, at the expense of the empire, of an expedition. The Noble would serve as leader, the Merchant was in charge of supplies, with the Overseer would provide logistical support. The orders her past self gave them were simple, acquire the unusual creature, unharmed, at any cost or do not bother coming back and if the exile tried altering the deal in anyway, then track her down and cull her. Since this particular exile had a history of culling her subjects, her past self decided to add several loyalists to the expedition to guarantee success.

The Alien Empress suddenly noticed some writing in the margin of her journal. The words were in slightly different ink and they listed the attributes of this unusual creature: pink skin, walks upright, tolerates the sun, has hands, capable of using tools, possibly intelligent, blue irises on white eyes, crimson colored blood. The Alien Empress froze in sheer disbelief after reading the list. Then, she swapped the focus of her hot pink computing device to the viewing window showing a lone figure making his way towards the nearby ruined town and then back to the missing portion of her journal again. She repeated these actions several times before closing her eyes. In her mind, she performed some very advanced calculations on the probability that one of these beings from this world somehow traveling to and then surviving on her home world. The odds were so great that the Alien Empress decided that it was impossible. As she closed application displaying the missing portion of her personal journal, the Alien Empress failed to notice the crudely drawn .357 caliber revolver at the bottom of displayed journal page.

Suddenly, the Alien Empress felt the half remembered memory from before coming back again and with it, she felt a terribly painful longing. Mixed in with this feeling was the terrible sense of abandonment as well. The Alien Empress only needed a few seconds to understand why her past self had censored this section of her own journal with such powerful encryption. Seeking distraction, she returned the focus of her hot pink computing device back to the display of the walking lone figure.

"He will do.", thought the Alien Empress as she grabbed her culling fork.


	59. Wishes

The Alien Empress prepared herself for her encounter with the sole remaining human by first transferring all pertinent information about her target from her hot pink personal clam shell computing device into the back-up computer within her bio-suit. Like nearly everything else from her now devastated home world, the suit she was currently wearing was also a living thing and it served many functions: spare computer, space suit with temporary air supply for short space excursions, even armor. But, the bio-suit's primary function was fashionable apparel. It possessed the limited ability to change it's overall shape and coloration to satisfy the Alien Empress's desires and could transform into from a ball room gown to fully encasing hazmat suit and anything between. Furthermore, whenever the bio-suit became damaged, it would heal and repair itself. Best of all, the bio-suit was self-cleaning! Despite the suit's versatility, the Alien Empress chose to wear it as a form hugging black onsie swimsuit decorated with for her personal symbol most of the time.

After the Alien Empress finished with the file transfers between her two computing devices, she commanded her bio-suit to deploy a face plate. She tried not to think too much about the unpleasant noises her bio-suit made as it reabsorbed a small portion of its own biomass and relocated it over her face. Nor did the Alien Empress pay much mind to the faint pang of hunger she felt as her bio-suit restored its depleted caloric reserves from her own body to pay for its latest transformation. She knew this hunger was one of her bio-suit's minor drawbacks. Another drawback that always came to the Alien Empress's mind with the hunger was her bio-suit's incompatibility with wardrobfier technology due to it being a living creature and the fact she could not take it off completely by herself. Despite this hunger, she had become used to it long ago and even welcomed it since it often allowed her a second, or even a third, helping of the various pies, and other pastries she often baked without spoiling her figure.

A soft tone alerted her to the fact that the face plate she had requested was now fully formed. After opening her eyes, the Alien Empress saw a display that mimicked the viewing surface of her hot pink clam shell computing device. A quick glance at a nearby reflective surface revealed that only her mouth, teeth, and her fuchsia colored pupils were still visible. While examining her own visage in the reflective surface, The Alien Empress spent a few moments making various faces while wondering which facial expression would trigger the most fear in the mind of this last human she was about to meet. In the end she decided that the wide confident toothsome grin she usually bore would suffice.

With a few mental commands, her bio-suit's computer interface pulled together and collated all available information about the last human and presented it to the Alien Empress for review. She quickly realized that there was too much information for her to read and began skimming through the data for anything that might be useful in a fight. Other than this individual's strange disappearance as a young man and reappearance some thirteen years later, there was nothing in these documents that the Alien Empress found interesting. Until, she got to the last man's finances! The amount personal wealth this individual had impressed her as did the surprisingly humble lifestyle he had lived just prior to the devastation of this world. What intrigued the Alien Empress next were the expenditures on explosives and large caliber firearms. Although these purchases occurred nearly twenty years ago, they gave her hope that this last remaining human might put up some sort of a fight.

Now eagerly looking towards this encounter, the Alien Empress commanded the computer of her bio-suit to calculate a flight path towards the crude hive this last human had constructed for himself. Then, she rushed outside her secret lair with her culling fork. However, the very instant the Alien Empress saw daylight she felt the primitive instincts within herself wishing to seek shelter from the bright light. Just as quickly, she sensed the real majyyk powers activate and cover her body completely for a brief moment. Suddenly, the Alien Empress felt her black onsie bio-swimsuit became tighter in some places and looser in others. She took step into the light and felt her body jiggle slightly in ways and places it was not supposed to. These sensations cause the Alien Empress to try to let out a frustrated glub, but she found herself unable to produce the vocalization unique to her sea-dwelling kin and instead produced a loud and very unladylike-like belch. She discovered the final insult after running one hand through her incredible mane of hair. Missing from her head were the pair of impressive horns she had spent an incredibly long lifetime growing. Although, she had experienced this personal transformation countless times before while living on this world for many years, The Alien Empress never got fully used to it.

She knew she had been transformed into a human.

The Alien Empress tried willing her real majyyk powers to change herself back to her original form, and managed to get one of her horns to reappear. But when she ceased her efforts, it disappeared again. This result troubled the Alien Empress and after a bit soul-searching, she understood why. A significant part of her mind was still trying to understand the things she had read in the censored part of her personal journal. With her mind thus divided, she found it difficult to override her people's natural instinct to hide from the light.

In the end the Alien Empress accepted that, for now, nothing could be done about her current form and that it did not matter. She realized that all she needed to do was make sure that she ended her flight near sunset. Then, she would become her normal self again once night fell. With everything finally settled, the Alien Empress took flight using her real majyyk powers. During the long trip, she found her thoughts slowly drifting back to the rediscovered pages of her journal again. Seeking distraction, she reviewed the collection of data on this last human and noticed that he frequently visited a small message board. Curious at what the site was about, the Alien Empress paid visit to it. Only to discover that the Serious Business site prohibited lurking. Undaunted, she quickly created an account for the message board under one of her many pseudonyms.

B. Crocker

The last man on Earth finally arrived at his favorite hardware store around late afternoon. When he later left with the parts he was looking for, he left his payment on the cash register along with all the other payments he had been making ever since the meteorites started falling from the sky. Now, after many trips for various parts, there was now a small fortune in cash practically spilling out of one particular cash register. His justification for performing this seemly pointless ceremony was based on what he read in a book once.

"Our character is what we do when we think no one is looking."

It was advice he took to heart and, despite the loneliness he suffered, the last man still did his best to keep up his appearance and to sweat the small details. Especially, when it came to his loved ones. He walked the few miles to where his previous home had been and looked at what remained. It was still a pile of partially burnt rubble and next to it was his overturned car and few graves. Upon seeing them, he walked over to the final resting places of his loved ones to pay his respects. Once finished, he began tending to the still living flowers he had previously placed on their graves using the water in his breast pocket flask. The last man on Earth carefully rehydrated the slowly drying soil around the flowers to keep them alive for just a bit longer. He knew this expenditure of precious water was decadent at best, and downright foolish at the worst. But, he sacrificed the life giving fluid willingly, despite not know where he could acquire more of it should his windmill contraption failed to be productive.

A buzzing noise soon distracted the last man from his thoughts. Looking in its direction, he saw that there were bees visiting the flowers on the graves of his loved ones. An old memory forced him to examine these hardy insects to make sure they were not from that other world. Once his concerns were laid to rest, he began to wonder about what hope was left for the little pollinators. He knew that when his time comes, the flowers on the graves of his loved ones would be soon to follow. Without them, the last man on Earth did not know how long the bees could live off their supplies of honey, but he knew it could not be forever.  
After the last man finished with everything he came here to do, he found himself reminiscing about the day everything changed. As best he could figure, it all started when he found an installation CD for a much ballyhooed game beta. What bothered him greatly was that he was certain he had already retrieved the day's mail earlier that day. Yet, the CD he found in there his mailbox later just seemed to appear in his mailbox without the postal service's usual help. Curious about what this Sburb game was about, he inserted the CD into his computer located in the basement of his house. However, a single glance at the slowly moving installation meter convinced him to go outside and wash his car. The last man on Earth suspected that this decision was the one that saved his life. By the time he had finished with the car, he recalled seeing his neighbor's house get hit by a meteorite and remembered the resulting blast wave that had sent him to the ground and wrecking both his car, his house, and his second life.

The last man stared at the impact crater that marked where his neighbor's house had been located. The lack of rubble or other evidence that a home had ever been located there only furthered his suspicions that there was something more going on. The more he thought about it, the more he became certain that he saw his neighbor's house simply vanish just before the meteor struck it. Curious, he retrieved his gray, serviceable hand-held computing device to make yet another entry on message board he frequented.

Only to freeze when he saw the number of unique visitors to the Serious Business message board had increased by one!

Although his heart began to pound, the last man maintained his self-control. This was not the first time he had his hopes raised and then cruelly dashed because some adbot had managed bypass the Serious Business message board's IP ban list. The last man hardened his heart and braced himself for yet another sale pitch for improperly spelled pharmaceuticals, a post from African royalty with financial problems, or yet another chain letter to appear at the end of his entries of the message board. To his complete surprise there was a new system generated message welcoming the newest member of the Serious Business message board.

B. Crocker

The hopeful feeling he was prudently blocking himself from experiencing escaped the mental confinement he had placed on the emotion. Elation filled him as the realization that he was not alone after all. He quickly finished his business at his destroyed home and set off towards his windmill. The hopeful feeling seemed to lighten his steps and the brisk walking pace he was traveling at soon became a steady jog. Once he arrived back at his windmill contraption, he wasted no time getting to work. He knew that swapping the fuses for the self resetting circuit breakers was not going to be an easy task. Somehow, the knowledge that he was not all alone on the Earth made the task a little less daunting. As night began fall, he continued to work swiftly only taking brief pauses to stare at the announcement on the Serious Business message board just make sure he was not hallucinating again.

The Alien Empress landed near the dwelling of her target just as the sun was setting. She double checked the latest whereabouts of her target before entering the crudely built human hive. Satisfied that he was still some distance away, the Alien Empress entered and went room to room taking stock of the various items her target kept about him. From what she saw, she speculated that her target lived a spartan existence. Although she did notice a surprising amount of items that were related to the care of clothing. As the Alien Empress continued her covert investigation, she became increasingly dismayed at the lack of weapons of any sort being displayed.

Just as she had seen enough enough, the Alien Empress felt her bio-suit loosen and tighten up in various places again. A quick glance at out a window revealed the cause, sunset. Feeling like her proper self again, The Alien Empress decided to leave the human hive. However, her first attempt at doing so resulted in her scrapping the tips of her long horns against the ceiling of the room she was currently in. As far as the Alien Empress was concerned, changing back into a human form the sake of navigating this poorly constructed human hive was out of the question. Her pride simply would not allow such an action to take place. Cursing the low ceiling architecture favored by the beings of this world, the Alien Empress was forced to adopt what she felt was an undignified crouching stance just to fit her horns through the next door way. As she completed the impressive gymnastic maneuvers required to do so, the Alien Empress accidentally knocked over a shelf stocked with various clothing care related items and books with one end of her culling fork. She spent a few moments looking at the disorder she had inadvertently created and then smiled. She found something fulfilling in the mess.

Something caliginous.

The more the Alien Empress thought about it, the broader the smile on her face became. In her mind a debate raged. On one hand, she found the course of action she was considering to be completely scandalous. But, there was not anyone to call her out on it. Besides, this would not be the first relationship she had with one of the inhabitants of this world and she knew that the human race could hate even though they did not consider it romantic. Becoming caught up in the moment, the Alien Empress ransacked the dwelling of her target until the computer in her bio-suit warned her that last human was approaching. Grinning from fin to fin, the Alien Empress quickly vacated the premises on foot only pausing briefly to put the front door back in its place before retreating behind a large dune. From her hiding spot, The Alien Empress reached out with her mind to sense what emotions of this last human.

Covered in the sweat and grime of a hard day's and night's work, the last man put the finishing touches of his upgraded windmill and watched in satisfaction as a steady drip of water fell into the large water tank he had deployed earlier in the day. Happy with his work, he began walking towards his humble abode all the while thinking about the mysterious visitor to Serious Business message board. He found the multitude of unanswerable questions filling his mind distracting. In the end, he decided none of them really mattered when compared to the fact he was no longer alone.

As he approached his humble abode, the last was man was too lost in own thoughts to notice the damage at first. He finally noticed things were wrong when the front door to his home fell inwards after he had touched it. Confused, he looked down and saw a two sets of tracks. One entering his house, the other leaving. Both, belonged to a lady wearing high heels. As he stared at them, his old skills at tracking enabled him to noticed the very subtle differences between the two very similar trails. Something about the tracks leaving his dwelling caused his stomach to begin twisting into a knot.

The last man took a deep breath and entered his ransacked home all the while wondering who could have done this. Quickly, he suspected that this despoiling of his home was somehow connected with this "B.Crocker" and he tried to justify the actions of the mysterious new member of the Serious Business board. However, the unpleasant feeling in his stomach only intensified when he saw that nothing of value was taken from his home. Especially, when he finally looked up and saw the scrape marks on the ceiling. With that last clue, the last man returned to where his front door had been and confronted the inescapable conclusion that all the evidence he had uncovered had been leading him towards. His worst nightmare that there was one of the strange folk on the Earth, had finally come true. Even worse, not only was it a shape changer, it was also a lady.

Which he knew from firsthand experience was the more dangerous gender.

Not too far away, the Alien Empress smiled broadly and toothfully. As her target approached his wrecked hive, she had detected strong hopeful feelings in him. However, these emotions quickly switched to confusion and then depression. The Alien Empress savored the moment, but after a few minutes she began to get annoyed. She reached out with her mind again, but failed to detect the one thing she really craved, hate! Quickly getting fed up with this moody human, she again tried to use her manipulation powers on him in the hopes that she might get things going again. However, when that tacit failed to produce the desired results, the Alien Empress began playing with her target's mental defenses like a pouncebeast does to a cheesecreature.

The last man put his back against the door frame and slowly slid down to the ground as his recent hopeful attitude disappeared under a black cloud of depression. He painfully thumped his head against the door frame a few times just make sure he was not dreaming. But, that course of action failed to produce any results. Then, as if to rub salt into his emotional wounds, the last man felt a new wave of memories coming over him. He closed his eyes for, but a moment and when he opened them again, he saw that the moon had become two.

One green and the other much smaller and pink!


	60. The Dragon Culler

He blinked a few times to sure what he was perceiving was real. It was with some sense of dread that he realized he no longer could not tell the difference between what was reality and what was a memory. He sensed that there was some kind of powdery substance on his face. Perplexed, he scratched some of the unknown substance off and upon examining the fingers of his gloved hands he discovered the color of the substance it was colored grey. Soon after, he made another discovery when he noticed there was a mysterious substance on his lips as well. He licked the strange lip balm and tasted rancid beast fat and soot. Displease with its flavor, he spat out the stuff and saw that its coloration was pitch black in the light created of nearby campfire. As he wondered what the hell was going on, he experimentally pulled one of his gloves off his hand and began to relax bit when he saw his natural pink skin coloration.

He was about to clean off this odd makeup when he suddenly recalled that he was the one who had put on this makeup and that he had a good reason to do so. He closed his eyes again and tried to remember recent events. On one hand, he clearly remembered that he was back on Earth sitting on the ground after having discovered that he was no longer alone. On the other, he started recalling bits and pieces of his encounter with the goddess that all the strange folk seemed to revere and the even stranger sunlight tolerant jade blooded cultists that tended to it. As pieces of his past came together, he was able to place this memory he was currently reliving as having occurred after his escape from the jade blooded cultists that worshiped and tended to the goddess of the strange folk. 

Suddenly, he felt a twinge of guilt as he recalled the scribble prone young cultist who took care of him while he recovered from the serious injuries he had received. The more he remembered this young lass, the more shame he felt having tricked her once he understood her stick-figure deceptions that she had scrawled all over the walls of the room he was being kept in. By using this novel form of communication, he managed to get her to believe that he would let her travel with him on his journey back to the volcano. Once his mistress's sword, his other possessions, and few other useful items had been retrieved by the helpful young jade blooded lass, he repaid her by binding her in the same chains that had been used to restrain him. He frowned as his last memory of her was her angrily wriggling on floor of his prison cell. He knew he had a lot to thank her for, not only for showing him that he could communicate with her via the stick-figure drawings they made together, but also for her idea that he could concealed his pink skin and other features with a disguise!

He hoped that her punishment for allowing him to escape was not too severe.

Again, he tasted the rancid sooty lip balm on his lips and now understood what its purpose was for being there as well as the grey powder on his face and other exposed flesh. Fearing that he might have accidentally wrecked his disguise with his earlier investigations, he reached into his pack and pulled several objects. He remembered that most of these items were given to him by his young caretaker. Among them was a small hand mirror which he used to examine his face for any flaws in his disguise. Upon noticing some, he opened the two jars. One contained the greasy black balm that was currently on his lips, the other had a grey powder. Using these two substances, he fixed his appearance and placed some strange glasses colored lenses over his eyes. These too were a "gift" from the young jade blooded girl. His stylish, but serviceable hat concealed his lack of horns. He took a minute to admire his complete disguise and was impressed how easily he managed to pass for one of the strange folk as long he did not show his teeth or sweat too profusely.

Suddenly, he caught sight in his mirror a brief burst of light that was soon followed by a peal of thunder. The sound forced him to turn around and discover the source of the lightning and thunder. Before him, he saw the same volcano that he had arrived near so long ago. It's peak was now glowing red from a recent eruption and there was a column of black smoke that rising until it joined a massive thunder cloud. As his eyes drifted down from the volcano's summit, he noticed in the nearby cliff face there was a familiar cave entrance. Upon closer examination, he recognized it as being the same one had he had emerged from on his first day on this world.

Suddenly, he felt both an overwhelming sense of hope and dread. These two conflicting emotions gave him the strange impression that there were two different people trapped in his head. He focused on the powerful hopeful feeling first and recognized it came from his past self, who truly believed that today would the final day he would have to survive on this world. The dreadful feeling was from his older self who knew better. Since that part of him was living these events a second time and now was dreading the cruel twists that fate had in store for him in the near future. He found it odd that he could experience both the hopeful feeling that he was returning home and a terrible sense of dread at the same time, but with a bit of effort, he discovered he could differentiate between the emotions his younger self was feeling and what his older and wiser self was experiencing. The hopeful feelings were not without merit. He clearly recalled seeing in his dreams he had while recovering from his encounter with the strange folk's god a dream cloud that showed him stepping on the same platform that had brought to this world and then disappearing. In fact, it because of this particular vision that motivated him to escape his imprisonment and return to the volcano in the first place!

He closed his eyes again as another wave of disjointed memories came to him. Once he made as much sense he could of these, he was able to recall how conflict free his travels had been since his escape from the jade blooded cultists due to his disguise. Despite his best efforts to avoid drawing attention to himself, there were always those few among strange folk who insisted on making the fatal mistake of becoming belligerent towards him. With the exception of these few unpleasant encounters, he felt a bit of pride for finding a way keeping the body-count low and the savage inside himself asleep during his long trek back to the volcano.

He expectantly felt his stomach rumble and looked for something to eat. A quick survey of his belongings revealed that he had nothing edible and on the ground near a dead campfire were several types of vermin that had already had their best portions already consumed. A quick view of the surrounding terrain revealed not the lush game rich environment he had left, but a scorched and barren wasteland as far as his eyes could see. The culprit behind this devastation was easy to determine based upon the various dragon scales that littered the landscape. These were not the tiny, easily broken colorful scales that he had collected with his mistress so long ago. Instead, these scales were as large and as thick as dinner plates and very dull in coloration. The desolation he saw caused both his younger and older selves to feel conflicted. He clearly recalled his oath to never harm another dragon again, but the destruction his eyes saw made him realize that this dragon had stripped the local environment bare. Although his younger self hoped he would not need to resort to violence when it came time to deal with the dragon, his older self knew conflict was inevitable.

When he returned to his small campfire, he noticed that he seemed to have already anticipated this outcome. Rolled out near the campfire, he saw a large piece of hide which had many of the large dragon scales glued to it. He tested the scales for their attachment to the hide and once satisfied that they were not going to pop off the moment he flexed the hide, he experimentally draped the dragon scale cloak over himself. It was tight fit, but he found that if he got on his hands and knees, then he could completely cover himself with the hopefully now fireproof cloak. Finished with the cloak, he rolled it up like a sleeping bag and attached it to his shoulders with two quick release knots.

Once finished, he noticed a olive green bloody trail leading away from the campfire. He followed this trail a short distance and found a freshly killed strange folk that he half remembered stalking and killing. The corpse had been stripped bare and the clothing it used to wear was now hanging on several nearby burnt tree branches. After examining the various articles of apparel, he recalled cleaning the green blood off of them as best he could and putting them in the breeze to dry. Most important among these was a robe decorated with various dragon motifs with a small slit through front and back at the center torso. The clothing caused him to realize his plans for getting to the portal platform. Instead of fighting his way through an unknown number of foes in tight underground passages, he was going to masquerade as one of the dragon's own cultists and, hopefully, sneak his way to the platform.

Ignoring his hunger, he quickly donned the robe and adjusted it to conceal his other gear. He did not bother to hide his mistress's weapon, based on what he was able to recall of his return trip to the volcano nearly all of the strange folk he had encountered during his journey were armed. Finally ready, he lit his skull lantern and entered the complex only to quickly discover that he did not need it. The first few chambers were near enough to the surface that the weak light from outside was able to chase away enough of the darkness for him to see well enough. As he explored deeper underground, he discovered many idols of the dragon which had bits of lit combustible matter in their maws which provided enough light for him to see.

Room by room, he wandered the lower levels of the complex. Many of the pathways he recalled taking during his first trip through the complex were now blocked off by cave-ins and he was forced to search for ways around these obstructions. During these diversions, he discovered there were new openings and corridors that had been carved out since his last visit and most of the hieroglyphic carvings had been destroyed the new occupants of this complex. He found the loss of the glyphs and their reptilian counter parts made his underground journey all that harder. Several times he became turned around and lost his bearings. Despite these setbacks, he could not believe his own luck. He had yet to encounter any of the dragon's cultists in these lower chambers, except for the one he killed outside. 

After spending a few hours of getting lost, he began to hear the sounds of a group of people shouting. By following sounds of the commotion, he eventually came to a large chamber. On the far side of the chamber, he saw a flight of stairs that he remembered walking down several years ago. The hopeful feelings of his younger self swelled at the sight of them. Up those steps, he knew the portal platform back to Earth was waiting. Knowing better than to blindly charge across an occupied room, he watched carefully from the doorway and wait for an opportunity to exploit.

Along one side of this chamber he saw the cages used to contain feral children stacked upon each other. Based on how some of these were shaking violently, he knew that they possessed living cargo. A fresh wave of shouts and screams soon drew his attention to the other side of the chamber. There, he saw a great portcullis. Behind it, were many slaves. Some of which he recognized having personally freed during his trek to the strange goddess that the strange folk worship. In the middle of this chamber were two dozen of the cultists that wore the same dragon decorated garments that he was currently wearing.

Suddenly, he witnessed a great flash of light was quickly followed by a thunderclap that came from the top stairs that lead to the portal chamber. Soon, he felt the hairs on his skin beginning to rise and he felt his younger self become so single mindedly obsessed with the idea of returning home that even his older mind nearly got swept up by the emotion. A great roar coming down from the stairs from the portal room accompanied by the sound of great wings flapping provided his older self with the stimuli needed to resist succumbing to this potent vision of the past. As sound of the roar echo seemed throughout the underground complex, he watched as the dragon cultists began arming themselves with barbed whips, clubs, and other non-lethal weapons. Calling upon his years of hunting the various fantastic beasts of this world, he clearly recognized something in the roar of the dragon that matched the sound of a beast driven nearly mad by hunger. Very quickly, he felt shame and disgust came over him when he finally realized why the dragon cultists were keeping these slaves alive.

They were sacrificial offerings to their god!

Aghast, he watched two of the dragon cultists walk over to the mechanism of the portcullis and began to turn a large wooden wheel. As the wheel turned, so did a complicated set of brass gears and slowly the portcullis rose. Once it had risen above barely above hip height, he noticed the more adventurous slaves attempt to abscond under the gate, only to be beaten back for their efforts. Despite being outnumbered by two to one, he observed the cultists pull one of the slaves out of the pen then resume beating remaining slaves back into submission as the portcullis made its slow journey downwards.

Something about the slave pulled from the pen caught his attention and the more he looked at the intended sacrificial victim the more he thought he had seen this particular yellow blooded slave before. The way the familiar slave stoically accepted being stripped and prepared to be offered up to the dragon impressed him. However, just before the slave's arms were bound, this familiar looking yellow blooded slave shouted out and started started pummeling the cultist nearest to him which caused the all of the dragon's cultists in the chamber to join the fracas. While the cultists were distracted, he saw the entire mass of the slaves behind the portcullis charged forward in unison and began to lift the still partially open gate.

Quickly, the sound of grinding brass gears reached his ears and he watched as, one by one, the cultists stop beating the familiar looking yellow blooded slave and confronted the escaping slaves with their weapons. However, whenever one slave was forced back, another took their place. For several minutes he observed the slaves slowly raised the portcullis to their pen, only to reach a stalemate once most of the cultists put their efforts into keeping the slaves in their pen. Surprised by the organization the slaves were showing, he looked back at what he assumed was their leader, the familiar looking yellow blooded slave, only to find a yellow blood trail leading up the stairs to the portal chamber. After making another scan of the chamber, he realized that nobody was looking in his direction!

Seeing his chance, he made his way along the cages that contained the feral children and began quickly removing the thick bits of wire that held their cages closed. He worked quickly as he moved from cage to cage and it was not long before he started hearing the doors of the first cages he had unlocked being forced open. Not wanting to be caught in ensuing chaos, he ran for the stairs. Behind him he heard several high-pitched screams as the feral children vented their displeasure at being imprisoned upon the unsuspecting cultists. As he went up the stairs towards the portal chamber he felt more of the hairs on his body rising.

His younger self felt a great wave of relief when he saw on that the platform was still there on the far side of the chamber. Even from this distance, he felt all the hairs on his body were now standing. However, between him and the way home were three of the strange folk. Having already identified the familiar looking slave, he examined the two other individuals and pegged them both as cultists. One of whom was dressed in finer clothing and was wearing more jewelery than any of the other cultists he had seen thus far. Based on this observation, he guessed he had found the cult's leader. He looked back at where familiar looking yellow blooded slave was chained and could not help, but notice that were many large rust, bronze, and yellow colored blood stains on the floor at the same spot.

As he quietly stepped into the portal chamber behind the three strange folk, he noticed that all of them were looking through a huge hole in the ceiling into the early evening sky as if they were trying to catch a glimpse of something. He gazed upwards too, not at the sky, but at the obvious claw marks along the rim of the opening in the ceiling. These told him that whatever enlarged the opening in the roof of this chamber, he knew it was differently not the strange folk who did so. Not wanting to draw anyone's attention, he slowly and silently made his way around the perimeter of the chamber with the goal of finding a clear path to the platform he that would take back home.

Just as he had traveled a quarter of the portal chambers periphery, he heard the cult's leader start calling out to something above in the sky while making sweeping gestures towards the chained and bound yellow blooded slave. Knowing full well that he was using the familiar looking slave as a distraction just so that he could return home, he felt a twinge of guilt. With his every step that he continued his silent journey, he hoped that his movements would go unnoticed long enough until he could get a clear run at the platform. However, the moment in time his older self was dreading all along announced its arrival with the sound of flapping wings and another hungry roar from above. He turned his head towards the sound and watched as a very large dragon landed in between him and the platform. He looked up at the dragon's head and notice it was focused on the sacrificial offering chained to the ground. Believing had not been noticed yet, he resumed his silent walk around the perimeter of the portal chamber. However, with his very next step he was struck by a powerful vision.

It was of himself falling face first onto the floor from the dragon's perspective. What surprised him were the feelings of contempt and power projected at himself. At first, he believed that this dragon had read his memory of his previous encounter with its kind and was very unreleased about his past transgressions. But, as the feelings of contempt and power continued, he realized there was something very different about this dragon. Suddenly, the vision in his mind began to melt and swirl into an odd dreamlike state. In this new vision, he was beset by a multitude of the strange folk of both genders. The ways these figures began to kiss, lightly stroke, and otherwise made their affections and intentions obviously known to him skeeved him so badly that he had quickly resisted this particular mental assault and fought his way back to reality.

He picked himself up and looked towards the portal to see if he could dash towards it. However, he saw that his path was still blocked by the dragon and when he saw it focused upon him for a second time, he had the feeling of being completely insignificant compared to it. He swiftly realized he was being overwhelmed by the sheer presence of the dragon and he rapidly began going through his many tricks in an attempt to keep it out of his mind. Despite his best efforts, the dragon seemed to find ways pass his attempts at mentally defending himself. Even the slow appearance of his gift's side-effects failed to keep the scaly intruder out of head. In the end, he only managed to stagger a dozen steps away from the wall of the portal chamber before succumbing once more. Before he did so, the last thing he saw was the small crowd of cult members gathered near the stairway to the lower chambers and they appeared to be fighting a retreating battle.

A new vision appeared in his mind, not one from the dragon's perspective, but another dream like one. In it he was marching under the dragon's shadow before a throng of the strange folk. On their clothing and banners was symbol which consisted of three curved purple lines that appeared to form a most unpleasant face. Something about this symbol deeply resonated with him and more he focused upon it the less tangible the vision became. Armed with this new mysterious emblem, he slowly fought his way back to reality. As he got up once more, his ears detected an increasingly frustrated growl coming from the dragon. He did not receive much of a respite before the dragon mentally assaulted him for a third time. Again, he employed all of his mental tricks, including biting his own arm, but the dragon won the battle of wills once more. The dream like vision that awaited him this time of him sitting on a throne with a crown on his head. All around him were treasure the likes of which he had never seen before and great number of strange folk slaves. In the background of all of this was the dragon. Slowly, he began to understand what the dragon was attempting to do to him.

It was tempting him.

He wanted no part of it. In fact, his younger self found the idea of spending one more day on this world anathema. He rebelled against this particular vision of the future presented to him by focusing on the one thing he wanted most, home. As he tore the dream like vision apart he began to see the heart wrenching and all too familiar blue-green globe that lay just beyond the portal in his mind's eye. Suddenly, the dreamy vision ended and when his senses came back to him he wondered what was happening. He looked up at the dragon and saw that it had turned its head towards the portal platform. When the dragon turn its head back, he experienced one more mental image and what he saw in it him enraged him.

What he saw in this vision was the portal platform smashed to pieces under the rock rending claws of the dragon.

Knowing exactly what the dragon intended, he found himself focused everything he had on the strange purple symbol that the dragon had revealed to him. As this latest vision melted away, he could feel all the various symptoms of his gift appearing as it manifested suddenly and completely. When he began to see reality again, time had already slowed down to a crawl. He did have not time to ponder why his gift was now manifesting so much faster than it had ever before or that he was about to violate an oath he had made long go. In the strange slow motion world he was now in, all that mattered to his younger self was protecting the only path home. As he readied his bow, he found himself counting the number times he felt his own beat. He counted four beats by the time he got his bow ready and counted two more as he notched the last of the metal tipped arrows he had been rationing throughout his travels since his encounter with the Behemoth. He counted six more heart beats as he aimed at where his hunting instincts predicted where the only soft target on the dragon would be. He lost count as he watched his arrow slowly fly towards the dragon's eye.

The deadly missile found its mark and the pain it inflicted prevented the dragon from wrecking the only means he knew of ever returning home. As he watched the dragon attempt to remove the arrow form its eye, he saw an opportunity. He made an attempt for the portal by sprinting as fast as he could in the strange slow motion world he was still experiencing. However, With each footfall he found time was catching up with him. He so distracted by this new and sudden appearance and disappearance of gift that he failed to notice the dragon's tail that was coming towards him until it was to late to do anything about it. Since he was already at a full run, his momentum prevented any form of defense as the scaly whip like tail slammed into him. As the dragon's tail sent him crashing to the ground, he felt his bow shatter. The blow knocked him sideways and caused him to land on his face. When he finally was able to roll himself over on his back, he saw the dragon standing above him with one of its rock rending claws raised and ready to impale him.

Again, he pictured the strange purple symbol in his mind and discovered, once again, this odd meditation helped his gift manifested more even quickly than ever before. Very quickly, he sensed time losing its grip on him as the massive clawed foot of the dragon descended. He drew his mistress's sword from its sheath as he waited for the last possible moment to evade the dragon's attack. Once it arrived, he vaulted off the ground with the aid of his mistress's sword and regained his footing. As he looked back at where he had just been, he saw the talons of the dragon slowly penetrating the stone floor of the portal chamber and he sensed the unsettling vibrations traveling through the floor as the dragon's talons dug their full length downwards into the very spot he had been. Once the dragon's attack was finished, he watched it for few moments struggle to free its trapped limb. As time slowly regained its grip on him again, he realized the dragon was momentarily stuck!

He thought briefly about making another run towards the portal platform, but quickly ruled it out when observed the dragon's tail angrily sweep back and forth over it. Turning his attention back to the stuck limb of his foe, he saw the dragon's ligaments and tendons under its overlapping scales moving as it repeatedly attempted to free itself with its tremendous strength. While, he knew he had previously made an oath to never harm another of these creatures ever again, but he also had sneaking suspicion that this particular dragon would never allow him to return home as long as it still lived. The fact it tried to make him its thrall not once, but three times made the act of breaking one of his most solemn oaths all that easier.

Suddenly, the strange purple face-like symbol reappeared in his mind's eye seemingly of its own volition and he felt the same rage that he had experienced when his mistress had been killed return and he only needed a few seconds to understand that after many seasons sleep, the savage inside him was waking once more. This time not by the stress of battle, or by the loss of someone he truly cared about. But, by the very symbol he had been calling upon. As his younger self began taking on the mental aspects his alter-ego once more, his older self sensed that there was something else that was motivating the savage within himself.

As his inner savage was roused from its slumber, he called upon all his experiences hunting great beasts. One thing he learned was, despite their incredible sizes, there were always blind-spots that all great beasts suffered from. Furthermore, there where always places where they could not reach with their teeth filled maws and claws. Armed with this knowledge, he studied the dragon's body and noticed that there was indeed a spot where he could fight in relative safety.

Underneath it.

He walked toward the dragon and began carefully evading its attacks. After dodging the gaping maw of the dragon a few times, he managed to get pass the great scaly beast's defensives and stand practically in one of the dragon's armpits. He only needed a few moments to find a place where he could get the tip of his mistress's sword between the dragon's scales. Once he had found the spot, he raised the lethally sharp blade above his head with both hands and called on his gift once more while picturing the strange purple face in his mind. He watched as the dragon's movements slow down as his altered perception of time granted by his gift manifested itself in record time. Sensing the time was right, he plunged his mistress's sword between the scales of the dragon.

He buried the blade of his mistress's sword to hilt with that single thrust and the instant he noticed the blade had ceased its penetration, he observed that time quickly resumed its orderly function. He wasted no time wondering why he was not suffering the usual exhaustion that came from using his gift. Instead, he began wrenching the impaled blade of mistress's sword to and fro. As he did so, he felt through the blade that muscle tissue, ligaments, and tendons were being mercilessly savaged by his actions. Even worse, were the near deafening roars he heard coming from the dragon while he continued his vicous attack on its stuck limb. With a final final wrenching motion, he felt through the blade of his mistress's sword something snap inside the dragon's trapped limb. Sensing danger, he pulled out the sword and leaped away from the dragon. Behind him, he heard its great mass fall and hit the floor.

Looking back, he saw the dragon had collapsed upon trapped limb and was now trying to right itself with its remaining forelimb. He frowned when it was able to do so. When he observed the dragon began to inhale deeply, he knew it was about to resort to its most fearsome weapon, its breath. He turned his back to his scaly foe and pulled the two quick release straps he had secured the dragon scale cloak that he had made. As he heard the dragon begin to exhale, he hunkered down, pulled the cloak over himself, closed his eyes, held his breath, and silently prayed that his makeshift creation would hold out just long enough. Suddenly, he heard another roar and through his closed eyes he noticed a bright and powerful light envelope him and felt intense heat baking him.

After what seemed to be an eternity trapped under in the universe's most powerful steam-press, he eventually noticed that both the light and the roaring ceased were soon followed by a gradual cooling in his immediate area. Ignoring the pain from his first and second degree burns, he stood up causing the dragon scales from his burnt cloak fell off of him and to the ground with a clatter. As he gripped his mistress's sword with both hands and pointed it at the dragon, he heard several whispers coming from the growing crowd of slaves and cultists that he could just barely see out of the corner of his eye. An angry and enraged hiss drew his attention back to towards his scaly foe and he saw the dragon had opened its maw and begin to inhale again. Knowing that he had no defenses against a second blast of dragon fire, he recalled his earlier encounter with these creatures and hoped that what he had learned from that unpleasant experience still held true for great dragon was he currently facing.

Which was that it would take some time for the dragon to prepare its next fiery blast.

Seeing no other possibility for himself to prevail against such a great beast, he gave himself completely over to the barely contained rage, the cold-blooded ruthlessness, and indomitable will of the savage within himself by closing his eyes and calling upon the purple face like symbol with everything he had. When he opened his eyes, he found himself already sprinting towards to the open jaws of the dragon and with every stride he took, he noticed that time seemed to lose a bit more of its hold on him. Once he had reached the front teeth of the dragon, he leaped into the open maw of his foe and landed on the rough muscular tongue of the dragon. Only to immediately leap a second time upwards towards the roof of the dragon's mouth. Aided by the additional momentum provided by his charge, he thrust the tip of his mistress's sword into the soft tissue in the roof of the dragon's mouth. Then, he smiled wickedly as the weapon in his hands penetrated deeply into dragon's brain cavity.

Time, once again, quickly caught up with him. Just as he sensed the dragon was about began to react to his sudden intrusion into its mouth, he noticed a clear fluid began dribble around the blade of his mistress's sword. The sudden disappearance gravity caused him to brace his feet against the lower teeth of the dragon, tightly hold on to the hilt of his mistress's sword with both hands, and lock all the muscles into his body. A second later he lost both his footing and his grip on his mistress's sword as he felt the dragon's head impact against the ground. For few seconds, he desperately grabbed at anything to prevent himself from being swallowed whole. But, when he finally surveyed the interior of the dragon's mouth he saw that its head was now on its side and its jaws where open. He stood up and ignored the gasps behind him as he searched for his mistress's weapon. He discovered that it was still in the roof of the mouth of the dragon, driven quite a bit deeper into the dragon's brain cavity by the dragon's head colliding with the ground. Furthermore, he noticed that more of the clear fluid was draining from the wound he had created. Soon, followed by teal blood.

A strange numbness came over him as he slowly realized that he had just killed the "god" of cultists. However, instead of walking the dozen or so paces to the portal platform and returning home, his younger self, having become the savage again, just stared at the weapon of his mistress still impaled in the roof of the mouth of the "god" he had just slayed. As the rage left his younger self, his older self was finally able to sense and identify the emotion that was now driving the actions of his younger self.

Fear!

His older self became astonished at this revelation. What his younger self had lost due to surviving on the strange folk's world, twenty years of civilized living had returned to him. Now, With his older and wiser mind, he knew the truth. The savage, a being whose solution every problem was to kill, was simply too afraid to walk to the portal platform front of the crowd of strange folk without his mistress's sword to protect him. Suddenly, his older self started seeing many of the questionable acts he had committed on this world in new enlightened sense of trepidation. Too distracted by this discovery, his older self barely noticed his younger self reaching for and grabbing his mistress's sword. The instant he pulled on it, a massive spasm traveled through the dead dragon's body and into its tail.

Followed by a loud metallic clang.

As the hairs on his arms and body fell down, so did the mood of his younger self. He pulled his mistress's sword free without any further mishaps and ignored the crowd of strange folk who were silently watching him with open mouths. Solemnly, he walked to the portal platform and surveyed the damage. While the platform itself was undamaged, the metal spire that rose from it was now on its side. There were a few broken bits scattered over the platform as well. Hoping a foolish hope, he stepped onto the platform and nothing happened.

He closed his eyes and fought against the tears he could feel coming. His younger self mentally debated whether or not that this was punishment for having broken his vow to never hurt or kill another dragon. But, that soon gave way to the stark realization that he would never get to home and that he spend the rest of his days trapped on this world. He dropped his mistress's weapon and fell to his knees. As he wept his first tears in years, depression consumed him. Death became a very acceptable option to him and he picked up his mistress's sword and turned it's deadly point against himself.

He could not go through with it.

Faced with the failure to end his own life, he closed his eyes and pictured the purple face like symbol again his mind. When he had sensed that his gift had fully manifested, he channeled it into the most powerful scream he could manage. He repeated this primal scream therapy two more times. However, on his fourth attempt, he felt his voice crack and go into a whisper. This forced him to again confront the bleak reality he still faced and, once again, he found oblivion preferable. He regained his footing and his mistress's weapon and walked around the dead carcass of the great dragon until he found its ribs. Then, he began messily hacking away at the side of the dragon. Scales, hide, bone, fat, and strange organs were soon parted by his furious butchering. Eventually, deep inside the dragon's carcass, he found what he was looking for, the heart.

It was too large to remove, so he cut a very large chunk from it and pulled that free of the dragon's corpse. As he stood before the silent crowd of slaves and cultists, took a moment to examine the still slowly beating piece of heart muscle tissue. He hoped its strange colored flesh would poison him and end the terrible thought in his head that he was never going home and began devouring the raw meat, taking bite after bite. Too his horror, the surreal meal had the opposite effect than he had intended. With his hunger finally sated he felt better physically and he was left wondering what other methods he could employ to end his life. Looking up, he again saw the crowd of slaves and cultists staring at him with still opened mouths.

In a purely reflexive motion, he wiped away the teal blood he felt was running from his mouth and down this throat and chest. Upon hearing several excited gasps coming from the gathered crowd, he looked down at himself and noticed that he had accidentally ruined disguise and revealed his pink skin that had been hidden underneath it. Suddenly, he got the idea that perhaps he could get these strange folk to do for him what he could not. However, before he got a chance to implement this new idea, the familiar looking yellow blooded slave pointed at him, and then spoke a single word. 

"Beast!"

Among the slaves in the crowd, he heard his moniker being repeated in many different ways. Sometimes like a question, sometimes like a title, and other times excitedly. When all the slaves began chanting his moniker, he knew that his reputation had reached these wild lands well ahead of his arrival. As he looked at the cultists, he could see the fear on their faces. To his surprise, the cult leader was the first to approach him. Seeing his chance to gain what he so desperately desired, he threw out his arms to allow the cult leader for what he believed would be a free and final shot at him.

Instead of attacking, the cult leader bowed down and began to worship him.

Rolling his eyes, he shoved his uneaten portion of the dragon's heart into cult leader's mouth in an attempt to incite violence. He quickly noticed that his actions caused the remaining cultists to slowly approach and begin to worship him as well. He looked down upon them with utter contempt and began hacking off chunks of meat from the dragon and throwing them at the cultists as if they were scraps for dogs. Again, he lowered his guard in the vain hope that one of the cultists would become enraged enough to end him. But, as he watched them carefully eat the flesh of their former god, he noticed for the first time how thin and hungry these cultists looked and the relieved looks they now had on their faces made him wonder if they had been dominated by dragon just as he almost was. 

He looked at the crowd of slaves and noticed they were just as hungry as the cultists. He hacked off a generous bit of meat from his kill and handed it to the familiar looking yellow blooded slave. Next, he carefully broke the chains that held the slave to the floor. Finally, he stepped away from the dead dragon and made a sweeping gesture to the carcass with his mistress's sword. He tried to speak the word for "yours", but could not manage anything above whisper. Despite this setback, he saw that the meaning he wished to convey was correctly transmitted when the entire crowd of slaves and some of the feral children he had set free rushed the dead dragon's body all at once.

For three days and nights he watched as the cultists, slaves, and the feral children feasted on the carcass of the great dragon. During this time he wrestled with the strange dilemma he faced. On one hand, the prospect of living on this world with no hope of ever returning home weighed heavily on him. On the other, he could clearly see that there were no hunters among the any of the strange folk present and that without his help, he knew that most of them would perish. To his surprise, he saw that some of the slaves and cultists had other skills besides making firewood.

Curious, he watched them put their collected talents together as they constructed a great chair from the dragon's bones. Their next project was to fashion a suit of armor from the dragon's best scales. It was when he caught these skilled strange folk hammering the cult leader's jewelry into a crown he finally caught on what they intended for him. He refused at first. But, as the days and nights went by, he realized he had nothing better to do with his life.

Eventually, he accepted the role these strange folk had created for him.


	61. The Beast King

As the headpiece was placed on his head, he reluctantly accepted the fate that he was never going to return home. Despite this resignation, he felt the terrible sense of being forever trapped on this alien world begin to diminish. As it faded, so did his urge to be constantly on guard and ready for a fight. Soon, he found himself able to think clearly again and when he looked at all the ex-slaves and former cultists that had gathered to watch his coronation, he saw that both groups looked upon him neither contempt nor fear. But, with a sense of awe! With this observation, he felt the presence of his alter ego vanish, and as he walked towards to the throne they had created for him, he saw the look of relief on all of the faces of those present. In the three days of self-pity he had indulged in, he realized that he had missed out a very important debate between the former slaves and the ex-cultists.

Who would lead?

Once seated, he replayed the events of the past three days in his mind and understood that it was the need for mutual protection that brought the two factions together. As he saw it, the slaves had nothing, but new slave collars to look foward to should they decide to make the perilous journey back to more civilized parts. Likewise, without their "god", the surviving members of the dragon cult would be easy pickings for anyone who still bore a grudge against them. Of which, he suspected there were a great many. He smiled and chuckled to himself once he became aware that it was not just his victory over the dragon that drove the two sides into making him their leader. He was only one that both factions trusted!

Despite being uncomfortable with it, he decided to bear the golden "crown" these strange folk made for him since it did not interfere with the wearing of his stylish, but serviceable hat. However, it did not escape his noticed that the "crown" he now bore was more of a tiara than anything else. This fact helped drive home a point he had long suspected. That it was the female gender that was more dominate on this world. Even with plenty to eat, he noticed it was the ladies who often perpetrated thefts or instigated other shenanigans against their masculine counterparts.

As he continued to watch the feasting from his throne, he realized the good times would not last forever. Based upon the rates of consumption he was seeing, he figured the corpse of the great dragon would only feed his followers another two days before it would be completely stripped. After that, he predicted things would very quickly become very nasty very quickly. The sight and sound of two feral children squabbling over a marrow filled bone nearby convinced him to do something now rather than later.

He made no efforts to conceal the fact he was going out to hunt and by the time he located and gathered all of his hunting gear, he noticed that nearly every one of the strange folk was watching him as he got ready. He left at dawn, but barely got a dozen paces out into the morning light of the red giant red star before the confused words of his followers reached his ears as they balked at following him into the light. He stopped and thought on how best to handle this situation. He did not want to wait for night since he figured suitable game would be very far away. Furthermore, he needed his followers to be in decent enough shape to transport whatever he managed to kill and not recovering from sunburn. 

He recalled the young jade blooded acolyte that cared for him during his convalescence and the many simple pictures to two of them used to communicate with each other. Then, he began drawing a series of shapes and symbols in the recently fallen ash which covered the ground. The first of which was a group of the strange folk in a cave with a full sun nearby. Then, he drew an arrow into the ash covered ground and attempted to speak their word for "follow". Unfortunately, he discovered that his voice was still broken and all he could manage was still quiet whisper. In desperation, he quickly scratched out another set of symbols that represented the setting sun next to the arrow. Then, hoping for the best, he set off.

He left additional arrows every time he changed direction and when the ground was soft enough, he dragged the butt end of his spear to leave an obvious trail. As journeyed across the fire scorched terrain, he was quickly reminded of the devastation caused great dragon's unrestrained feeding habits. This lack vegetation concerned him as several large trees were among his navigational landmarks. Several times he was forced to look at his hide map and puzzle out his location and bearing. In this process of getting lost and finding his bearings again, he was relived to find that many the refuges and water sources on his map were still intact.

It was near sundown when he decided to rest under a rocky overhang and wait for any of his followers to successfully follow the easy trail he left behind. Although he failed to find anything worth hunting so far, the faint patches of green on the horizon gave him hope that tomorrow's hunting would be better. The first of his followers arrived after a few hours after sunset. More trickled over the next few hours until he noticed that nearly half of his followers had successfully made the trip. Of these, he noticed that nearly all them were ex-slaves. Feeling rested, he set off towards the green patches he saw earlier. Behind him, he heard the stomping feet and words of the strange folk being spoken. He tried several times to convey the idea to his followers that they needed to more discreet by shushing them. Based on the confused looks he received in returned, he could tell was not very successful.

He quickly realized that attempting to hunt anything with his throng of noisy followers tramping behind him was completely fruitless. Eventually, he gave up and redirected his travel to a shelter adequately large enough to house this group of would be hunters. By the time he had led his entourage to one, the red sun was already beginning to reappear on the horizon. He again looked and noticed the lush growth was nearer than before. This observation convinced him to try his luck hunting a second time even though he was starting to feel the effects that the lack of sleep brings. This time when he left his followers, he drew another set of pictures in the soft ground depicting that they should stay and he would return with food. As he walked away, he noticed that, thankfully, no one was following him.

He spent a few hours searching the area until he found the trail one of the very large lizard-like creatures that formed the bottom tier of predators in the local ecology. He found it to be a simple task for him to track down and kill the scaly beast. As he got ready to butcher his kill, he realized that he had an excellent opportunity to teach his followers some of the basic skills they were going to need to survive in this wilderness. As he pulled the carcass onto his shoulders, he noticed that the dead lizard creature nearly weighed as much as he did. Despite carrying such a heavy and bleeding load, he returned to the refuge without incident and picked up several suitable rocks he needed to demonstrate his tool making skills with. He heard his moniker being shouted out once he neared. The fact his followers had the intelligence to post sentries made gave him hope.

However, The moment he entered the shaded area provided by the refuge, he felt a certain tension in the air. He looked at the assembled mass of ex-slaves and noticed they were already glaring at each other. Furthermore, his ears detected none of the previously jubilant mood in the unnatural silence his followers were now expressing. Although he had a bad feeling about his next course of action, he decided to take an additional step deeper into the shadowed area provided by the refuge. As he did so, he mentally performed some quick math based upon the number of mouths to feed versus what he was carrying. His stomach began to knot when the realization hit him that all his followers had already made the same calculations that he had just done. Even worse, he could tell they had already come up with the same grim result.

There was not enough meat for everyone.

Dauntless, he decided to take a third step further into the refuge. However, fatigue, the weight of the carcass, and an unnoticed rock all conspired to cause him to stumble. As he attempted to recover his balance, his kill managed to become dislodged from his shoulders. Thereby causing it to fall to the ground. Still off balance, he noticed that his followers took his mistake as a sign and all at once they began converged upon him. He quickly abandoned any thought of demonstrating the skills he wished to teach and, instead, began using the flat side of his mistress's sword to clear path through the crowd of seeking hands that were converging upon him.

For several minutes, he applied the non-lethal portion the weapon of his mistress against his own followers until he could pull free of them. Once he had escaped the hungry mob, he watched as all of his followers fought over his kill. Disgust began to well inside him at the sight of dozens of bare hands tearing away pieces of raw flesh of the carcass, only to fall to the ground as the fighting intensified. This sight reminded him of the red-eyed scavengers from so long ago and as he continued to watch the grisly spectacle, he felt the exactly the same desire to put a stop to it as he had done so to the scavengers. 

With a tremendous effort, he barely succeeded in forcing himself to turn away from the senseless orgy of gore before succumbing to his violent urges. His next course of action was to start walk. He did not care if he was being followed or even where his feet were taking him. All that mattered to him was that he put as much distance between himself the stomach churning spectacle he had just seen and to allow time to reduce his fiery temperament. During this cooling off period, the notion of abandoning his followers and the role his they had given him did occurr to him. However, the prospect of being alone bothered him nearly as much as did the annoying voice in his mind that kept reminding him of his responsibility to these people. Although he did not realize it while sneaking into the dragon cult's complex and slaying their god, he now recognized that most of the ex-slaves were the same ones he had set free during his long and bloody trek to the butterfly cult's underground temple complex.

Confronted with this duty, he stopped wandering and rested on a large rock for bit of rest under the afternoon light of the giant red sun and wondered how he was going to govern this unruly mob. Slowly, but surely bits of the past came to him. Particulary, his experiences at the communal camp and the effect that the Behemoth's presence had on the other strange folk there. He had always considered the brute to be just another tyrant profiting from the weak, but with his recent experience he now saw that the Behemoth had provided another, much needed, benefit.

Order.

He sat down on a large rock to ponder this conundrum. The more he thought about it, the less he liked the idea becoming a bully like the Behemoth. That was not how he wanted to run this kingdom. Furthermore, he seriously doubted that such a plan would work for very long before someone who was a better warrior killed him and took his place. However, he understood that if his followers were ever to rise above their primal nature, then he needed to find a way to keep the peace amongst them. He closed his eyes and began thinking about how to perform such a feat. Hours seemed to fly by as he searched for a solution. Like fear and raw physical force, he eventually rejected base trickery or encouraging the dragon's cult to worship him. While he thought that setting up a theocracy might have greater success than dictatorship, he did not wish to rule by that means either. What he really wanted was to elaveate his followers so they could do away with kings and living gods and learn rule themselves.

In a democracy.

He was not absolutely sure how to get strange folk under his rule ready for such a form of government. Inspiration only came to him after he heard a faint hiss. Distracted at first, he followed the sound and saw a second lizard-like creature following the bloody trail he left behind after killing the first. Instantly, he recalled all the facts on how to hunt these potentially dangerous beasts safely and soon it lay dead before his feet after a quick ambush. As he picked its carcass up, he thought about his previous experience with his followers and his hopes for them.

He was struck by an odd thought as he began his journey back to the refuge. Like the dead lizard-like beast currently on his shoulders, he had killed so many of the strange folk during his long treks both ways across this world that he was just as familiar their ways. The real challenge as he saw it, was to adapt that knowledge to govern his followers instead of killing them. As he continued walking back to where he had left his followers, he started thinking about the relationship he had with his mistress and all of its the strange turns and twists. In those memories he found what he hoped would be the key to getting his followers to stop acting just like beasts he hunted.

He ran his plan through his head several times as he returned to the refuge. By the time arrived he noticed that the giant red sun above was still a few hours away from setting. Again, he heard his moniker called out and from under the refuge he could see the many, still hungry, eyes peering out at him and the heavy carcass on his back. This time, he did not walk into the shaded region provided by the refuge. Instead, he picked a corner of the shaded area that allowed him to sit in the light of the red sun and, at the same time, only allowed one or two of his followers to approach him and his kill. Once situated, he stabbed the ground near him with his mistress's sword and laid out the rocks necessary for the lesson he was about to teach.

Again, he watched and waited as his followers began to push and shove each other in an attempt to get access to his kill until the strongest and most aggressive of the group to force their way to him. He just politely smiled and with one hand motioned towards the rocks he had laid out while keeping his other hand positioned strategically near the weapon of his mistress. As he watched as this particular strange folk looked at the rocks and then at his kill. He tried to speak their words for "pick up", but discovered that his voice still remained a whisper. Refusing to give up, he motioned to the collection of stones and picked up two and then motioned for the strange folk before him to do the same. After a few tries he succeeded in getting his would-be student to do the same. He needed several more attempts before he succeeded in conveying to his student which stones were the correct ones to use. With his student thus equipped, he demonstrated the art of knocking an usable cutting wedge off a rock. At first, his student stared at him incredulously. However, when he demonstrated that he could cut open the hide of his kill with the freshly made stone tool, he saw something his student's eyes that conveyed understanding.

As his student raised one stone to strike the other, he was certain he was feeling the unique sense of pride that only fathers got feel. However, the resulting pained scream swiftly brought him back to reality. He examined his student and noticed that now there was brown blood dripping from his student's hands. He winced in sympathy as he had made the same mistake countless times on his own personal journey to master the art of stone knapping. To make matters worse, the sound of chuckling was now coming from his other followers. As he predicted, their mirth darkened his student's mood. With bleeding knuckles, his student tried again and again, each time with greater amounts of force and with every self-inflicted wound his student suffered, the mirth and snicking of the other strange folk present grew louder. Evenutally, his student lost any semblance of self-control and let out a pained and frustrated scream. Then, in a swift, but all to predictable course, he watched as his enraged student lunge into the sunlight towards his kill.

While he was not fast enough with his mistress's sword to prevent his student from getting a handhold on his kill, he was quick enough to stop this act of larceny with the swift and skillful application of the flat side of the blade the weapon against the already horribly bludgeoned knuckles of his student. He took no joy in the resulting shriek the emanated from his retreating student. However, his ears quickly detected that his other followers did. As the laughter and heckling continued from the other ex-slaves he noticed that his student him was now glaring at him through narrowed eyes. Having also predicted this outcome, he left out a sigh when he saw his student reached into sunlight a second time to grab the largest stone available, and raised it up as if to brain him with it.

Despite knowing that he was vulnerable in the sitting position he was currently in, he remained calm and resisted the violent urges that bubbled within him. Even awareness that he was in danger of getting his head cracked open or suffering multiple broken bones from all the hate fueled strength being channeled into that rock failed to break his nerve. Instead, he remained calm and raised his mistress's sword. Not as a form of defense, but as new way to attack. At the very moment he sensed that student was about to hurl the stone at him, he reflected the light of the giant red star with the blade of his mistress's sword directly into the night adapted eyes of his rock wielding student.

With quickly raised hands, his now blinded student screamed out several alien words while dropping the stone. From deeper under the refuge, he could hear more guffawing and laughter breaking out. As he predicted, this ridicule caused his student go into a rage and start blindly assaulting anyone near by. As horrible as these circumstances were, he remained calm and waited for the next step of his plan to happen while he watched his admonished student rage blindly. In the tight confines of refuge watched as several other of his followers were injured or pushed into the red sun's light. Soon, his ears were detecting an increasingly amount of hate and rancor among the chorus voices he was hearing.

Just as he was certain that full on riot was about to occur, he noticed that one of his smaller and more timid followers was slowly approaching towards his blindly raging student with closed eyes. When he finally heard the soothing shushing sound he quietly exhaled the largest a sigh of relief in his life. As this smaller strange folk continued the pacification ritual, his ears picked up calmer voices coming from his other followers. After a few more minutes, he watched as the formerly enraged strange folk calmed down and then looked back at him with only a bit fear and contempt. Sensing another opportunity, he motioned for the pair to approach him. Unlike before, none of his other followers tried to get ahead of these two. In fact, he noticed that most of his followers were now preemptively shielding their eyes with their hands.

Again, he demonstrated the technique for knocking sharp flakes from one stone with another. This time taking time to show proper way to hold the stones so that self-injury would be prevented. Naturally, his student was hesitant. But, with what he assumed were words of encouragement, his student's new counterpart managed to convince his student to try again. The first few attempts resulted in his student fumbling and dropping the stones. Despite these failures, he noticed that this new friend of his student was paying careful attention to each attempt and failure. At one point the counter part to his student took took the stones and showed, in slow motion, the proper striking motion to make and, at the same time, how to hold the two stones safely.

With his student's next attempt, a large and suitably sharp wedge was finally produced. He allowed his student to admire the nearly razor sharp stone tool for a few minutes before cutting a line on one of the legs of his kill with a stone cutting tool of his own creation. After a few puzzled looks from his student, he was able to convey what he wanted by making sawing motions along the line he had just made. After a few rough cuts, he peeled the hide away to reveal the meat that was hidden beneath it. Again, he made a few more lines on the edible portions of his kill with the blade of his mistress's sword to indicate where additional cuts were to be made. His student quickly got the message and cut free a generous handful of meat and raised it toward his mouth only to stop. The sense of pride from before returned as he watched his student divide the handful of meat and gave half of it to the strange folk that had helped. As he watched the two happily chew their small meal, he noticed the rest of his followers were starting to pair off.

Exactly as he had planned they would.

As each pair took their turns learning how to form a cutting-edge from stone and how to basic butchery, he was constantly reminded of the wall of crude figures and the various types of relationships the strange folk cultivated amongst themselves. He found himself guessing which type of relationship each pair of his followers were in based on how they shared the meat they had cut free. He observed that most of his followers were in the same kind of that the first pair he had taught and they tended to split their meal evenly. Meanwhile, the ones in more affectionate relationships fed each other, in a rather passionate manner, he noticed.

In contrast, he watched a pair who were in a more rivalrous relationship first competed to see who craft an usable cutting tool the quickest. Once that competition been settled, he shook his head as these two proceeded to fight over their share of meat causing much noise and trouble. After several minutes, he found himself getting fed up their quarreling and roughhousing to the point that he was again feeling the urge to do something permanently about it. Before he could do so, one of his followers spontaneously rose, approached the rivals, and, with a single slash of a recently stone cutting tool, divided the rival's meal evenly. Instead of absconding away like a thief, he watched this brave and stoic figure stare at the two rivals with a disapproving and steely resolve. With nothing left to fight over, the pair calmed down and enjoyed their meal. In the resulting peace and quiet, he realized he had just seen the fourth type of relationship of the strange folk in action and wondered if this peacemaker had somehow picked up on his simmering temper.

With all his followers given both lessons and a bite to eat, he looked at what remained of his kill and saw there were still a few bites left for him. Most importantly, the large scaly hide of his kill was still completely intact and usable. Fatique and sleepiness swiftly came over him as he ate. Looking to the horizon, he noticed it would hours before his followers would be able to travel. Figuring he needed the shut-eye, he found a comfy place in the dwindling sunlight, pulled his stylish, but serviceable hat over his face, and drifted off to sleep.

He swiftly realized he was having the same dream he always had once again. As he laid on the golden bed in the golden room, he wondered what visions the strange clouds would bring him this time. Soon, he began to drift over to the window he always looked out of to see the vision bearing clouds. Only to notice something was off. Looking at the booties of his golden pyjamas, he noticed that he was still on his back whilst floating! Shocked by this new development, he looked at the size and shape of the window and speculated that, with his current orientation, he could actually fit through it. As soon as he had finished that last thought, he found himself drifting through it! He soon found himself outside a tall and golden, but partially built, tower. Looking down, he saw numerous partially built golden castle like structures everywhere around him and on them were numerous white figures clad in light grey clothing busy with the business of construction. Despite being curious about them, he soon found himself floating, still in a reclined position, away from the golden castle landscape and towards what appeared to be a three by three chessboard with two kings. Mystified, he ignored the occasional vision granting cloud that drifted between him and the endless stalemate of the two kings and watched the two titanic game pieces slide around the chessboard for what seemed several hours.

Eventually, he awoke to a very loud and deep roar and quickly noticed that night had fallen.


	62. A Mercy Killing

He needed a few seconds to get his feet under him. Once he had risen, he noticed that his followers had taken the liberty of transporting him via an improvised stretcher made from the very hide he pulled from his kill earlier. He spent few moments examining its construction and realized that sensations of being carried on it accounted for the strange dream he had just awoken from. As he turned his vision towards his followers he smiled when he caught sight of all the improvised spears and cudgels in their hands. Then, he smiled even broadly when he observed the fresh maroon and brown blood on their weapons and the remains of many partial consumed vermin littered the ground.

Happy that his followers had taken his lessons to heart, he scanned the horizon to get his bearings and became aware of the many miles he had been transported. He figured that he was now well past the green vegetation he had observed on the horizon the day before. The happy feelings he was experiencing were soon replaced by a terrible revelation that he had been at the mercy of his followers for hours. Driven by his concern for his many metallic tools and other paraphernalia, he began to go through his many pockets, pouches, and bags and took stock of his inventory. Only to discover that nothing had been stolen from him. To his utter amazement, even his mistress's sword was still in its sheath. Quickly, he felt the tension that he had built up in his frenzied searching melt away into a wave of relief and for the first time the thought that he could trust his followers came to him. As long as he did not rile them up into a frenzy, that is.

A second, even louder roar forced him from that line of thought and look in the general direction from whence it came. Under the gloomy light of the two moons that orbited this alien world, he spied a familiar shape of a musclebeast. Except something was off. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the creature a second time and realized that it was quite some distance away and that it towered over the hills and trees around it. As he went through his mental catalog of the various forms of lethal lifeforms on he had encountered, he felt his heart begin to pound. If there were only one class of creature on this alien world that he went out of his way to avoid, it was the mega-fauna! As he studied the creature, he felt the eyes of his followers on him and when he looked back at them, he could easily read their facial expressions.

He sized up this encounter and concluded that this creature was far beyond his ability to defeat. However, when he looked at his followers a second time, he realized that he was not alone in this endeavor. Slowly, an old memory started to come back to him. It was of the communal hunting camp under the great tree that he and his mistress had visited before setting off towards her cave. Despite finding even these early memories of his mistress unpleasant, he successfully recalled the hunters of communal camp and their technique for slaying one of these great creatures. He quickly motioned his followers to approach and he cleared a spot on the ground and started drawing with a stick.

First, he drew a quick depiction of the mega-fauna in the dirt and ringed it with horned stick figures. His ears picked up a confused and fearful tone among his entourage, but that started to change when added crude torches to the horned stick figures. He was now hearing a few excited voices breaking through the uncertainty and when looked up, he saw it was the more battle-scarred and older looking members of followers that were understanding the hunting plan what he was trying to convey. He wait for a few minutes while the more experienced former slaves to do the job of convincing the rest of his followers to go along with his idea. Then, when he had their full attention, he added a hornless stick figure armed with a sword next to the hind-legs of the crudely drawn mega fauna. Suddenly and without warning, he drew his mistress's sword and cut the dirt across very same hind-legs his figure was stand near. This display caused his followers spontaneously erupted into cheering.

Once he had gotten them to quiet back down, he pointed to the torches he gave the horned figures with one hand and towards the drier looking vegetation nearby with the others. Again, the more experienced members of his followers interpreted his intentions and began ordering the others to begin gathering the raw materials he required and soon he watched as they fanned out in all directions. He started a small campfire with the first batch of flammable material he received and began to demonstrate his technique of creating torches. It did not escape his notice that some of his followers were quicker learners than their peers. Once enough torches were created, he handed them out and lit one. Then, he began approaching his greatest challenge yet.

As he drew nearer the colossal creature, he could not shake the mental image of a mouse armed with a sewing needle trying to kill an elephant from his mind. To counter these thoughts, he focused on the hard truths he had learned from this world. The first was that everything had a weak spot and the second was that these creatures were preyed upon by the strange folk. Warily, he stealthily closed the distance while using his cloak to hide the flames of his torch. To his surprise, when he looked back, he saw his followers were now mimicking his silent approach and were keeping pace with him. Slowly, he weaved his way around the huge steaming piles of dung and stepped over large muddy puddles of milk that the mega-fauna left it its wake. During his final approach, he kept one eye on his prey at all times, searching for any signs that it might have become aware of his or his followers presence. As far he could tell, the creature remained completely oblivious.

That, or it simply did not care, he speculated.

On closer examination, he perceived that the creature seemed distracted by a wound at the spot where its upper humanoid torso joined with the equine half of its centuarian physiology. As he got closer, other fresh injuries caught his eye and he found his wondering what caused them and why was this creature was alone. Based on his past experiences, he knew they traveled in herds. A growing warmth in his hand refocused his attention at hand. A quick look at his dying torch cause him to quicken his pace. He surveyed the local area and found something that was close enough to the mega-fauna and big enough to conceal his and his followers presence. Near a particularly large steaming pile dung, he waited for his followers to arrive and with the last flickering flames of his dying torch he kindled several of their torches. These followers, in turn, repeated his actions. Then, he drew his sword and made a sweeping gesture with in an attempt to get his followers to begin encircling the mega-fauna.

He stood still, mouth open in sheer surprise, at the chaos he had unleashed. Instead of encirclement, his followers charged in the general direction of the mega-fauna while screaming and shouting in their alien language. Some began starting fires indiscriminately, find and igniting several of the large dung piles that had dried out enough. Instead of corralling the giant creature, they spooked it. Thereby causing it to rear up and slam its enormous hooves into the ground causing great clouds of dust rise up. While he quickly recognized that the situation had gotten completely out hand, he had to admit that his followers had succeeded in accomplishing one goal, keeping the mega-fauna distracted.

In between the great clouds of dust being kicked up, he circled around to the hindquarters of the great creature. He took a few moments to watch the creature's movement and quickly figured out where the ligament he needed to cut. With his mistress's sword at the ready, he attempted to summoned his gift. However, something was not quite right. The burning energy inside him which he usually fought to keep contained was just mere ember. He knew the reason why, this creature, unlike the great dragon, was clearly minding its own business. Any threat this creature pose to him or his followers were a direct result of his own actions.

He tried to summon his gift by picturing the face-like purple symbol in his mind, but it refused to manifest. Refusing to accept defeat so quickly, he targeted one of the hind-legs, charged, leaped and sliced into it with all the force he could muster. The feedback from his powerful strike caused he fail to land correctly and, instead, went into a tumble and end up sprawled out on to the ground. He did allow himself to linger in such vulnerable state. Obeying his hair-trigger impulses for self-preservation, he rolled out the way of an unseen and retaliatory giant hoof. The dust cloud produced by the hoof's impact with the ground caused him to cough and sputter as he rose up. He retreated to a safe position and prepared himself for a second time. Before doing so, he tried to come up with some reason to get angry with this beast. However, nothing he could come with worked. Even seen one of his followers get punted off into the night by the mega-fauna failed rouse the internal flames. As he watched the situation go from bad to worse, all he could think of were his many failures. From his mistress's death, to the incident with the butterfly cult, to this current situation. As he pondered these misadventures, a profound sense of self-loathing started to come over him.

And with it came the internal burning sensation he was all too familiar with.

As he felt the flames inside of himself building once more, the idea of dying once again resurfaced in his mind. While he already knew his alter-ego would prevent him from choosing the easy way out, he suddenly saw a loophole. Instead of an inconvenient source of meat, he now saw the mega-fauna before him as a way to be released from the hell of being forced to survive on this world by the savage inside him. Eventually, he reasoned, he would die to any one of the seemly infinite hazards this alien world could and would throw at him and that a dying in combat was not a bad to go. To guarantee the outcome of the upcoming battle, he quickly began divorcing himself of all his equipment until he was wearing nothing but his trousers and the belt from which weapon of his mistress hung from. However, when it came time to part ways with his mistress's sword, he found himself unable to so.

He did not know if it was merely sentiment or his-alter ego refusing to relinquish the only thing that came between him and the dangers of this world. He tried several more times, but he could not find the will to let go of it. As a compromise, he sheathed his mistress's sword and picked up a stone large enough to bludgeon the mega-fauna's head with. Then, he looked at the hind-legs of the mega-fauna and saw a series of tufts of matted fur forming a way up to the creatures back. Looking at the stone in his grip, he realized was going to need both his hands to climb. A bit of gallows humor made him chuckle as he put the stone on his head and pulled his serviceable, but stylish hat down hard over it. Finally ready, he began running towards the greatest, and what he hoped would be the last, challenge of his life.

With a leap, he grabbed the lowest tuft of foul-smelling hair and pulled himself higher. Then, he repeated the exercise again and again. He lost track of time as he made his ascent. Only the moments where the mega-fauna tried shaking him off provided clues to the height he had achieved. Somewhere along the way, he convinced himself that the creature was some how aware of his intentions and wanted to deny him of his goal. This belief made he cling more fiercely whenever the mega-fauna tried its best shake him off.

Eventually, he made his on top the hind-quarters of the creature and with his first step on the flesh of the mega-fauna he felt it suddenly tensed up and spasm wildly. He found the this response like a sentient trampoline that did not want people jumping on it. Several times he was nearly thrown off by the twitching and by the great hands of the creature as it reached backwards in an attempt to brush him off. As he made his way towards the humanoid torso of the mega-fauna, he began noticing the myriad of scars and burn wounds this creature sported. He did not think too much of the evidence of numerous injuries at first, until me reached the massive wound that he had noticed earlier.

It resembled a ravine in shape, size, and depth and the flesh around it was swollen and inflamed. The way the edges around the wound were ripped and the burnt hair near it made him think of the great dragon. Disgusted by wound's appearance, he circled around it and began climbing the mega fauna's back by using the creature's impressive muscles as a ladder. With every new handhold, he could feel the mega-fauna react to his presence and he was eventually forced to begin scaling the creature's spinal column. He found the bony protuberances just under the skin of the creature made excellent hand holds and he made quick progress despite having to occasionally avoid being grabbed by its massive hands.

As he scramble onto the great shoulders of the mega-fauna, vertigo struck when he realized the heights he managed to climb. He remained transfixed by the points of light that were chaotically milling below him until a great equine snort cause to refocus on his purpose. Upon turning his towards the origin of the sound he saw that the mega-fauna was now staring at him with irritation. However, he became stunned as the emotion conveyed by the creature's face transformed into the same pleading look that a dog has after being fatally injured.

In that moment, he knew this mega-fauna would not give him what he desired most.

The frustration he felt about the current situation quickly became fury. The reality that he had managed to fail again at something did not help matters either. As the inner fires inside him were stoked by his volatile emotion state, he became aware that he was now holding the stone he had placed under his hat with both hands. Even worse, he sensed that time was beginning to lose its grip on him again. It was in this weakest of moments that he succumbed to his base impulses once again. He did not know if it was the pent up energies inside of him breaking free of his control or the sudden reappearance of the strange voice in the back of his mind urging him on, or his alter-ego lashing out. Or even, a combination of the three. All he felt at that moment was this tremendous rush of power to his legs just before he jumped upwards and towards the head of the creature. Followed by a similar rush into his arms and hands as he slammed the stone against the mega-fauna's temple.

Time quickly caught up with him and to his surprise, he heard the creature groan in pain as he landed. Again, he felt the self-preservation instincts kick in as he spontaneously evaded the giant hand came for him. Although he wished to die, the compulsion to keep on fighting was simply to strong for him to stand still and surrender. As he continued to evade the hand that searched for him, he was forced off one shoulder, across the megafauna's back, and onto the other shoulder. Figuring that he was safe for the moment, he looked for the giant hand that had been chasing him and found that it had stopped its pursuit and disappeared.

There was a few moments of relative quiet as he listened to the screams and shouts of his followers from below. Then, he felt the great muscles just under the skin he was standing begin to move while at the same time he heard the sound of a great mass traveling at high-speed. Yet again, his well-honed reflexes made him jump towards the nape of the mega-fauna's neck. Behind him, he heard a great sound like thunder followed by a great wind that hit him with such force that it altered the direction of his leap. As he drifted past neck of the mega-fauna in slow motion, he watched his own hands reach out fruitlessly towards anything that could arrest his impending fall. As he looked down at the great height he was about to plummet, he began laughing.

He had finally beaten his inner savage.

When he made contact with the mega-fauna's back, he went into a tumble. Reflexively, he curled up into a ball and began rolling downwards. Despite this, he remained happy secured in the knowledge that he was at least several stories up and there was nothing that his alter ego could do about it. His world became a undistinguishable blur as he waited for darkness to come and claim him.

It did so much more quickly that he had anticipated and it felt wet. Furthermore, he hurt all over as if he performed a belly flop into someones pool after jumping of the roof of the same someone's house. What he found even more strange was that he definitely had a sense of up once the dizziness he was suffering from had subsided. Seeking to right himself, he reached out with hands a touched something that was warm and pulsated with a heart beat. Curious at what the afterlife was, he got his legs under him and stood up. He felt himself breach a thick and foul fluid and took in a lungful of air. After wiping the disgusting substance from his eyes and nose, he saw the stars above him he knew he was still alive.

Fate, he noted, seemed to have other plans for him.

Based on the ragged edges around the entrance of the of the diseased pit he fallen into and the strange heart beat he sensed earlier, he realized that he had fallen into the mega-fauna's open wound. For few moments, his mind raced to find a way out of the putrid pit he was now trapped in. But, it calmed once he noticed the irony of trying to escape dying in this horrible place right after trying to get himself killed. He surveyed the wound he was stuck in and the dim star and moon light he noticed that everything looked very inflamed. What intrigued him the most were the tree branches he discovered. Based on the orientation he found them in, he speculated that the mega-fauna had attempted to clean this wound out with small trees. Suddenly, nature of this creature's plight and why it was away from its own kind came to him. The more he empathized about the mega-fauna's plight the more his anger, frustration, self-loathing diminished. Oddly enough, he found the fires within himself remained. While they were no longer being stoked by his emotions, he noticed that they were not ebbing either. Looking up at the inflamed fleshy opening above him, he wondered if he could use the pent-up energy inside of himself to escape.

A sudden shift in the contour of the wound's shape around him derailed that thought. To avoiding being crushed by the nearby constricting muscle tissue of the mega-fauna, he found himself splashing about in the pus that partially filled the giant wound. As it changed shape, he perceived a stable area. He struggled past the encroaching walls of his fleshy prison and threw himself against the inflamed tissue of this safe spot, only to hit something hard. Curious, he placed his hands on the area he had collided with and searched with his hands. On the other side of the thick swollen membrane, he felt a bone with familiar protrusions coming off of it. This discovery made him recall his ascent up the creature's back and spinal column. He froze once the realization hit him that he could end this creatures suffering from where he was currently standing.

There were only two flaws in he could perceive with that course of action. First and foremost, he had his doubts that the energy inside of him would respond to this new mission of mercy of his since they were generated from emotions directed at himself and not towards the mega-fauna. The other problem he perceived was how to escape this pus filled oubliette. In the end, he decided that his escape attempts would easier if the creature was no longer alive and reacting to his and his followers actions. His mind now made up, he drew his mistress's sword and slashed through the thick membrane that covered the spinal column. He took a second more careful look at the now espoused mega-fauna's spine and targeted the large cartilage disk he saw.

Breathing in deeply, he pictured in his mind the strange purple face like symbol that the great dragon had revealed to him. He felt heart began to beat faster and faster as he felt the burning energy contained inside him push out from torso and into his arms, hips, and legs followed by pain and the sensation of his extremities swelling. Just when he thought could no longer bear this torment, the pain faded, replaced with the strange feeling that he had slipped free of time's grasp one more time. He snapped his eyes open and focused on his target. Then, he put everything he could into the strike he made slicing deep into the mega-fauna's spinal cord. Time quickly caught up with him again and for several minutes he had to steady himself as the mega-faun reacted violently to his impromptu surgery. Once the creature had calmed down somewhat, he repeated his assault again and again, and with each strike he felt the energy inside himself diminish and with it the desire for oblivion faded as well.

When he all but extinguished the internal flames inside himself, he assessed the situation. To his dismay, the mega-fauna was very much still alive despite all the clear fluid that was now draining from its badly damaged spinal cord. To make matters worse, he sensed that he could no longer call on his gift. Undaunted, he grabbed his mistress's sword with both hands and drove it deeply into the damaged section of the mega-fauna's spinal cord. He watched spellbound as great spasms suddenly rocked the infected wound he was trapped in.

Then, he noticed that everything became still and quiet.

Unsure what this uneasy calm foreshadowed, he pulled the weapon of his mistress free. As he sheathed it, he noticed the pus and other fluids in the wound was starting to slowly climb up the one side of the wound. The more he observed this phenomenon, the more it accelerated. Suddenly, he became aware that the mega-fauna had some sort of seizure and was now in the process of falling over. Quickly, he began racing the foul fluids up one side of the wound, hoping that he could escape it before the creature hit the ground and its great bulk crushed him. As he madly scrambled up the infected wall of tissue, he could feel the same self-preservation instincts that he had scorned before were now aiding him by driving him upwards towards freedom and salvation. For this one moment, he sensed that both halves of himself had the same goal and as a result, he ascended the slick flesh wall at an impressive rate.

When he finally poked his head out of the wound, he did not like what he saw. By his estimates, the mega-fauna was halfway through the process of falling on its side. He quickly weighed his options and found them all lacking. He knew was still too high up to jump and to remain in the wound result in him being crushed. The only way he saw to survive this situation was to keep climbing around the mega-fauna's back and make his way onto its side before it hit the ground. In response to all this danger, he felt the internal fires inside of himself were rekindled.

He began sprinting towards the fleshy horizon formed by the mega-fauna's anatomy. For every moment that passed the angle he had to run against got worse. Soon, he noticed a slight breeze from behind as the speed both he and the mega-fauna fell increased. After a few more seconds of sprinting up and around the mega-fauna's torso, this breeze became a stiff wind, then a full force gale. With each additional step he felt the wind would catch his body, causing him to unintentionally jump further and further. Just as he reached the pinnacle of the now nearly sideways mega-fauna, he called upon his gift once more as he made one final vault for salvation. The combination of forces acting on his person sent him much higher than he had anticipated and by the time he sensed that he was descending, he saw the mega-fauna finally hit ground. As he fell towards it, he hoped that whatever he was about to land on was soft and squishy and not a bone covered by thin layer of skin.

The wind was knocked out him as he belly-flopped onto the side of the mega-fauna. By the time he was able to catch his breath again, he found himself sliding down the belly of the mega-fauna too quickly to stop himself. Despite knowing this, his self-preservation instincts compelled him to slow his descent by grabbing at anything. But, the few hairs on this part of the mega-fauna's body either broke or slipped through his fingers. He picked up speed as he continued to slide across the creature's abdominal region and realized that he was still at least a few stories off the ground. He knew that a fall form this height could be fatal or, worse, crippling despite his physical conditioning and amazing reflexes. As he slipped off the mega-fauna's body completely, he wondered if fate was finally through toying with him. He did not bother looking at the ground as he fell.

He knew there was nothing he or his alter-ego could do about it.

He landed in something soft and moist and when the smell of it hit his nostrils he knew that he was still alive and, against all odds, unharmed. While he remain still for a few moments disbelieving his fortune, he neither heard or saw and signs of his followers. Eventually, he accepted that he was not going to die tonight and began tunneling his way out of the manure pile he landed in. When he finally emerged, his followers began chanting his moniker ecstatically. Until, the mega-fauna began moving. Having cheated death so many times this night, he was no longer in the mood to fight. However, he also knew the creatures of this alien world rarely die quickly, especially the larger ones. Knowing what had to be done, he decided to throw all caution to the wind and give the mega-fauna the death it needed.

He walked towards the creature's giant head and ignored its feeble attempts at grabbing him. Once at its throat, he studied the neck of the mega-fauna's for a moment before drawing his mistress's sword. In a single and powerful slash, he opened a particularly large vein. The resulting deluge of indigo colored blood drenched him from head to toe washing the all the foulness from him. As he walked back to his followers, he notice a change in how they were looking him. He detected there was a new tension among them and when he neared them, they started to kneel and bow. Wondering what was going on, he looked at the indigo blood on his body and recalled that strange folk he referred as the Behemoth had the same colored blood. The thought that his followers were bowing out fear did sit well with him. He tried speaking their language but his voice still remained a whisper. Thinking quickly, he began hauling his followers back onto their feet one by one. He could tell most were baffled by his actions, but eventually he got the idea across he did not want them to bowing.

Once he was finished sorting his followers out, he turned to the mega-fauna to see if his had passed on yet. Despite its massive loss of blood, the creature still lingered. He looked back at his followers and notice that many were already ready to begin taking meat and trophies from the mega-fauna. He stop them with single look. Then, he waited and waited some more. By his estimation, it took the mega-fauna over an hour to die. However when it finally did so, it passed on with a smile on its face. Only then did allow his followers to help themselves to his kill, after he had taken some meat for himself first.

With his meal in hand, he located the gear he had abandoned and to his surprise it was not only where he had left it. But, not a thing was stolen or missing. As he cleaned off the blood that covered him and put his gear back on, he watched his followers butchering his kill. Despite there being much more than all of them could eat, there was certain amount of acrimony among them that reached his ears and eyes. Which, in turn, caused him to begin wondering if this was their natural state and they were not the savages that he had originally thought. He continued to observe his followers until the giant red sun was about to come up. Then, he lead them to the closest refuge that could shelter their number. Instead of picking a place out in the sun to sleep, he decided to tempt fate one last time by choosing a place under the refuge to sleep among them. He noticed that he was receiving a lot of awkward looks from his followers from this sudden change in his personal sleeping policy. Eventually, he sensed they got used to his presence. Once that happened, he too was able to relax enough to rest and then to sleep.

He woke up in the same golden bed again in the same golden room again. However, this time, there was a figure at the window busy with something. He quickly recognized the figure as being one of the many dream people he caught a glimpse of during his last dream. He became curious about how these they looked like up close and decided to approach. Just as he got up out of bed, he saw the figure set a brick in the window frame with a heavy thump. Next, it spread some mortar with trowel onto the brick it had just placed. By the time he had floated over to the window, the strange bricklayer, had laid another brick on top of first and got its trowel out again.

Suddenly, he saw the strange bricklayer looked up from its work and to him. He got a good look of its face and noticed that this dream person lacked a nose, but have a pair of eyes and mouth. While it was humanoid in form, its arms, legs, and torso was covered in a carapace. Even its fingers that gripped the trowel had a segmented look to them. When this bricklayer when it began to flip out like weasel for several seconds before losing its balance on the scaffolding it was standing on, he realized that he had startled it. He quickly acted and saved the strange bricklayer by reaching out and grabbing its greyish clothing and pull the obviously frightened figure back onto the scaffolding before releasing his grip. Then, he waited for the bricklayer to calm down and recover from its brush with death. Once it had done so, he noticed the bricklayer had seemed relived and happy only to become solemn and regretful as it resumed its task.

Based on how slowly it was working, he got the impression that this mysterious dream person was following orders it did not agree with. He soon found himself speculating on why his window had to be sealed. After some thought, he guessed it had to be related to his strange flight the last time he dreamt. He thought about it for some time and the only thing that made sense to him was that he was being protected from something, whatever it was. Another thump distracted him from his musings. When he looked at the window again, he saw that the bricklayer had been very busy while he was lost in thought and that it was spreading the final bit of motor in preparation for laying the last brick. He looked through the small hole that remained of the window at the bricklayer and saw it was having some sort mental crisis. He watched as the dream person held last brick tightly with one hand and its trowel in the other all the while gritting its teeth. Then, he witnessed the bricklayer, in a moment of rage, strike the brick with its trowel knocking off piece of it from one corner. Next, he watched as the solemn expression reappeared on the dream person's face as it raised the brick up to put into place. Once it was tapped into place, he looked around the room or any other exits or windows.

He could not find any.


	63. The First Immigrant

He examined the bricked up window and saw there was a narrow crack inadvertently created by the damaged brick the dream person had used. When he looked through it, he discovered that he could still get partial glimpses of the prophetic clouds bearing their cryptic imagery. He continued his cloud vigil but soon noticed that his usual dream past time had changed for the worse. Instead of the full pictures, he was now perceiving just a fraction of them. He soon found the already difficult task of understanding these images was made far worse and as the hours passed his frustrations grew until he lost himself for just moment and punched the bricks blocking his view. He froze when he felt an all-too-familiar sensation inside himself. Something that he had never experienced before in his dreams.

Burning anger.

He suddenly woke up, shocked that his gift could manifest in his dreams. The more he thought about it, the more apprehensive he became, since this unpleasant discovery removed what he had believed was his only refuge from his gift. A sudden pang of hunger provided a welcomed distraction from these ominous thoughts and he decided to visit the dead mega-fauna for a quick meal. He got up and walked out from under the refuge while being careful not to accidentally step on any of his sleeping followers or get injured by their seemingly random spasms caused by their nightmares. As walked to it, wondered in what condition his followers had left it in.

He received his answer as soon as he caught sight of the enormous carcass. Everywhere the dead mega-fauna's skin had been breached there were swarms of scavenging lifeforms, both big small, feasting. Based on the talon and claw festooned tracks made in the large pools of semi-congealed indigo blood, he knew that some of the larger predators in the area had discovered his kill and helped themselves to it as well. Aware of the possibility of danger, he cautiously approach the dead mega-fauna with his mistress's sword drawn. The few of scavenging creatures that failed to quickly get of his way were swiftly dispatched and once he felt the area was safe, he made a new opening in the dead mega-fauna's hide and butchered enough meat to last him for a few days.

He briefly considered cooking something on the spot for a meal, but reconsidered when he realized the smell of cooked meat would attract unwanted attention. It was not the beasts that worried him, instead it was his followers mobbing him again that he was more concerned about. Deciding that discretion was needed, he quickly packaged the meat he had carved out and tied it to the stretcher that his followers had brought him here on. Then, he dipped his finger in the indigo blood and drew a series of symbols on the rocks to indicate to his followers that he was returning to the cave complex. Once finished with all his preparations, he set off. His daylong journey was uneventful and he made swift progress that included quick diversion to a water source that was along the way. By the time he had arrived at his "castle", the sun had nearly set.

With his first look, he saw the strange folk who had chosen not to go hunting with him had been very busy during his absence. Scattered all around about the main entrance, were many of the dragon statues, all destroyed. Upon a closer look, they had appeared to have been shattered with a blunt object and with great force. What he found stranger, was the trail leading into the underground complex. It was made up of smallish back stones that crumbled easily and reminded him of soot. He pondered this mystery for a few minutes before the unmistakable sound of a blacksmith's hammer hard at work began ringing out from somewhere in the underground complex.

He followed the repeating sound and as he moved from chamber to chamber and noticed there were new statutes providing illumination. Whenever the noise unexpectedly stopped, he waited for its return by carefully examining these new idols. After careful study, he discovered that most of them were alterations of the same dragon statues he had seen before, now modified so they now depicted his fight with the dragon. Furthermore, he noticed thar the artists who were making these alterations had taken certain artistic liberties. First, by removing his stylish, but serviceable hat from the sword wielding figurines that represented him and, second, by giving them an impressive set of horns. He speculated that there must be more than just a few of the cultists who had skill working with clay or carving stone based on the all the different sets of horns on all the figures that represented him. Suddenly recalling all the broken dragon statues he saw on his way into the cave complex, he hoped that the statue makers were not caught up in a religious schism because of him.

He did not get far in his musings before the hammering sound resumed again. As he continued his pursuit, he was occasionally passed by some of his followers as they fled away from the sound with their their hands over their ears. The trail of black sooty dust he found on the ground hastened his progress through the maze like structures of the underground structure. Deep in the cave complex, he found the source of the noise, a makeshift forge and a smith hard at work on a small anvil. He sensed that his initial approach went unnoticed and decided to watch the smith before entering.

At first, he mistakenly believe this particular strange folk possessed the same indigo colored blood as the Behemoth due to the smith's impressive upper-body physique. But, he soon discarded that theory when he saw the remains of a metal slave collar around the neck of the individual and the scars that could only come from having borne it for many years. What he found all the more curious were the extensive dragon themed tattoos all over the smith's back. These gave him the impression that the smith zealously worshipped of the dragon. With that thought, he suspected he had found the culprit responsible for all the broken statues he had seen earlier and why he could not recall seeing this particular strange folk before.

This smith had been away when he had slayed the dragon.

He felt his heart begin to race as the he anticipated that this situation had the potential to become very violent while, at the same time, he sensed the terrible fires inside himself were already feeding off on the tension. The ease at which he fell back into his old habit of always being ready for battle surprised him. He suppressed the urge to fight and, instead, focused on the importance of keeping this particular strange folk alive. While he had personally seen the creation of the tiara he now wore, he had a feeling that this smith was the only source for metal tools for miles around. Whatever hope he felt that he could manage to convince this smith to be a part of his kingdom was tempered by the way smith continued to hatefully hammered away at the various irons in the crude forge of this smithy. He searched his memories for examples on to handle this delicate situation and once again recalled the Behemoth. Strength, he sadly confirmed from his own experiences, was practically the only thing that the strange folk respected.

He took a moment to steel his resolve. But, before he could take the first step, he watched the smith dump a few dozen of the black sooty rocks into the forge and then begin pumping a large and dilapidated looking set of bellows in an attempt to drive air into the forge. For several minutes he watched the smith work up sweat just to get the forge to burn just a little hotter. Suddenly, he felt a gentle breeze coming from behind him to replace the air that just had been forced into the forge. Then, he watched the smith stop, sniff the air, and slowly turn towards him. At that moment, he suddenly became aware that his hand was already clasped around the hilt of his mistress's sword.

For a brief moment, he saw hunger on the face of the smith before it was replaced with sheer contempt.

He silently thanked the large cuts of relatively fresh meat he was still carrying and hoped that they could help him win over this particular strange folk. Keeping in mind that strength, or at least the of appearance it, was paramount, he boldly walked into the forge room and walked towards the bellows while primed and ready for any violent reaction. A string of half-muttered and half screamed alien curse words reached his ears as he started examining the worn-out device that supplied air for the forge. The fact the smith had not assaulted him yet reassured him that he was on the right mental track and he decided to continue with both his indifference towards the smith and his examination of the forge and bellows.

In the red light of the forge, he saw that bellows were primarily crafted from wood and leather and that they were in such dire shape that he was able to observe its internal valves open and close through the many large tears present in the hide covering of the device as he experimentally pumped it. Based on what he saw, he figured it would be trivial for him to construct a new apparatus for the forge at some point in the future. Once he completely understood how the bellows operated, he began stitching the worst of the tears closed and despite the protestations of the smith. Once he had finished, he began pumping the bellows and began seeing new details being revealed the increased light coming from the forge.

He took a second and better look at the smith and now saw that the dragon themed tatoos he had noticed earlier covered not only the back of the smith, but the front as well. Next, he noticed a simple golden ring on one of the smith's fingers and he found it distracting by they way it seem to glow. He forced himself to blink several times to free himself from the ring's allure and then forced his eyes onto the face of the smith. Immediately, he spotted the badly damaged slave collar that the smith was wearing and the short length of chain that snaked through the broken pieces. The way it hung down the center of the smiths upper torso reminded him of a neck tie, until he noticed its melted end. Suddenly, he understood that only a great and powerful fire could be responsible for the damage he saw. This awareness, in turn, helped him to understand the magnitude of the smith's devotion to the great dragon and as a result he had to further temper his hopes of winning over this particular's strange folk's favour.

He continued to pump the bellows until the unbroken string of alien curse words coming from the smith rose in volume until they were being shouted. Confused, he quickly noticed that the heat coming from forge was becoming unbearable. He swiftly realized his mistake and gradually reduce the rate at which he worked the bellows causing the forge to diminish in light and temperature. gradually, the curse words of alien language that he barely understood diminished. Only to increase again when the forge became too cool. Eventually, he figured out the approximate temperature the smith wanted the forge to be at base upon the amount of verbal abuse he was receiving. Once aware of the proper rate at which to pump the bellows, he got a front row seat of the smith's skills, as one by one, the various irons in the fire were pulled out and hammered into various shapes. He paid careful attention to where each hammer stroke fell upon glowing ingots of metal and where on the small anvil the ingot were placed. Although there was too much to take in one session, he started to see that the smith was not mindlessly beating the hell out of the bits of red hot metal and that there was much more to the art of metalwork than he had first assumed.

After some time, his mind began to wander and he noted that the contemptuous look on the smith's face never went completely away no matter how many irons were pulled from the fire of the forge. Furthermore, the ease at which the smith accomplished this work confirmed his early observation that smith was channeling animosity between them into each of the hammer blows that were shaping the glowing bits of metal. This thought made him felt uneasy. Not just for the possibility of accidentally becoming embroiled in another relationship and all that would entail, but the fact he would have to return to his old ways of always being primed and ready to fight. He focused on how nice it was to finally be relaxed and comfortable around the very beings he had spent, as far he could tell, the last few years slaughtering. The more time he spent in the presence of the smith the more he found himself wishing to be at ease once more. As the smith pulled yet another red hot ingot from the forge, he wondered how best to achieve what he wanted.

The best solution that he came up with was to become so deadly that none would dare attack him. To somehow develop the ability to kill with a mere thought. The absurdity of the idea nearly caused him to discard the notion as fast as it had come to him, but something about it caused him to give it a second thought. The idea that next entered his mind next sent chills down his spine. He knew he could not kill with just the power of his mind alone, although it seemed like that was the case whenever his inner savage asserted himself. However, he recalled that there was a way to kill both at a distance and at a whim.

And this awesome power could be available to him at a pull of a trigger.

He refocused his attention on the smith's handiwork taking as much as he could with renewed and deadly interest. Mentally recording every hammer stroke and the way the glowing hot ingots of metal responded to being struck and how they gradually changed shape on the anvil's various surfaces. He was again forced to realized that there was simply too much for him to learn in just one lesson and that he was going to need time to learn enough of the smith's trade to forge a metal tube strong enough to channel the incredible forces he was going to subject it to. Furthermore, he foresaw that the potentially explosive mixture he intend to cram into said tube would be problematic. While he already knew the three primary ingredients of the concoction thanks to his memories of his wild west comic books, but the ratio they needed to be mixed in eluded him. Much experimentation, he realized, would be required.

When he finally ceased his pondering he noticed that the number of irons in the forge had dwindled as well his own ability to keep the forge's appetite for oxygen sated. Sweat trickled down his well muscled frame as he approached the very limits of human endurance. Sensing that his facade of strength was about to become revealed, he realized that he had placed himself in quite a predicament. While aware of the possibility that the smith might strike when he was most vulnerable, he still needed a way to avoid killing this particular strange folk. He recalled the previous day's encounter with the megafauna and wondered if he could channel his violent gift towards productive ends. Figuring that he had nothing to lose, he closed his eyes and once again pictured the strange purple face like symbol in his mind. Immediately, he felt the fiery energy inside himself flow into his arms and hips and the physical exhaustion in his body melt away.

As he continued pumping the bellows, he began observing that the rate that smith's hammer was being swung at was constantly changing. Due these ever varying strikes he found it difficult to keep the forge at a steady temperature. While he suspected chicanery on part of the smith at first, the few frustrated alien expletives that he could hear over the fierce beating of his heart soon caused him to reconsider a second and more plausible theory for this anomaly. Having never had the time to think about the way the strange time altering state of mind that his gift always imposed on him worked while in combat, he quickly came to the realization that he had never before attempted to use he gift in this manner.

Accepting that it was him and not the smith that was at fault, he quickly began to count the number of hammer strokes the smith made and maintained a steady ratio of pumps of the bellows to them. Despite the near overwhelming urge to expand all the burning power inside himself all at once, he kept up the delicate balancing act of releasing minute portions of the fiery power stored inside of him. Each time he did this, he was able to perceive the changes in the smith's hammering as his perception of time kept being altered by his gift. This observation lead him to consider the possibility that he was not really summoning his gift at all. Instead, It had always been active during his every waking moment and what he was really doing was choosing when to feed it.

Suddenly, he saw the numerous miraculous near misses and close calls he had while surviving on this alien world in a new and terrible context.

His stomach knotted up as he considered the idea that it was not this savage and alien world or its people that made him the man that he had become. Rather, it had always been his fate. He found this particular thought was so repulsive that he began frantically searching for something to distract himself while he pumped the bellows. He let a sigh of relief when his eyes focused on the oddly enchanting ring of the smith. It continued to sparkle unnaturally as the smith pull yet another red-hot iron from the forge. As he watched the smith work the ingot into shape he noticed there was something affecting to his vision.

The reddish tint he was now observing caused him to recall the first few times he experienced the full of effects of his gift. As time passed, the red fog worsened as he kept up his labours until the only things he could perceive were both the explosion of sparks that resulted whenever the smith's hammer struck the glowing ingot and the glinting of the ring on the smith's hand. Despite this developement, he continued to count the hammer strikes and maintain the temperature of the forge. Even when he detected a disturbing new wetness coming from his eyes and lubricating the handle of the bellows he still persisted.

Freed from both the constraints of pain and exhaustion, he was unsure how long he had continued to pump the bellows. Only the absence of the explosion of sparks created by the smith's hammer and the sudden disappearance of the dancing lights created by movements smith's ring clued him in that something had changed. Unsure what to do, he worked the bellows for a bit longer before stopping. At the very moment he ceased his labour, he felt himself slip out of the time altering mindset his gift imposed on him. Soon after, he began to experience all the pain and exhaustion of his labours. The fatigue he felt was so great he was forced to lean against the bellows with the last bit of strength he possessed just to remain standing.

Knowing that he was at his weakest and most vulnerable, he could do nothing more but wait for the smith to take advantage of the situation.

To his surprise, no attack ever came and as the minutes went by he found himself wondering what was going on. His first clue came to him when the beating of his own heart had subsided to the point that he could hear the crackle of the forge's fire and, not one, but two individuals breathing heavily. Once the red fog that had clouded his vision cleared sufficiently, he was able make out the exhausted expression on the smith's face. A second look at the smith's body posture told that the smith was also completely expanded by forge work they had performed together. As he recovered further from the side effects from the extended use of his gift, he felt a sly smile began to creep on his face in response to the growing awareness that the smith was too tired to make an attack.

He spent the several minutes engaged in a staring contest with the smith. Once he had the strength to walk again, he approached the forge and wiped the blood from his face, body and hands and noticed the smith was becoming increasingly weirded out. He looked at forge and saw that all the glowing ingots of metal had been processed and decided that he would make use of what was left of the red-hot coals. He began by extended his upturned hand so that he could get a basic measurement of the heat the forge was putting out without him at the bellows. Then, he started sweeping his hand around the forge searching for the best places he to cook a steak.

The sound of angry words coming from the smith quickly reached his ears. He did not know why smith was being so protective of the forge and it bothered him. However, hunger convinced him to continue his thermal explorations with his upturned hand by walking along the perimeter of the forge. When he neared the smith, he heard a loud hiss. He immediately froze and felt his other hand instantly grab the handle of his mistress's sword. Despite the aching in his limbs and fatigue he was still suffering from, he sensed that his every nerve and muscle was already primed and ready for a fight. Even, worse he could feel those terrible fires inside himself being stoked again. He turned his eyes towards the smith and kept repeating a single phrase silently in his mind.

"Don't make me cull you."

After another intense staring contest, he saw the smith's eyes focus contemptuously on his upturned hand. He suddenly felt an odd urge to take his hand away from forge and present it, palms up, to smith. What puzzled him was that this compulsion had the same back-of-his-mind vibe that the strange, but often annoying, voice he occasionally heard. He decided to act on the whim since he was curious as to why his palm was drawing the ire of the smith. He took a single step from the forge before catching a glimpse of smith's hammer swinging towards him from the corner of his eye.

In that moment where time seemed to slow to crawl, he felt his body act of its own accord and dodge the clumsy blow of the smith effortlessly, while countering with a strike of it's own. He instantly recognized that his alter ego's attack was targeting the neck of the smith with deadly intent. In what seemed like the longest second of his life, he willed his hand that held his mistress's weapon to twist and his elbow to bend slightly upwards. Then, he released all the burning power within himself and channeled it into the blow.

When he felt the side of his mistress's blade make contact with the back of the smith's head he sensed that time was resuming its orderly procession once more. As it caught up, he watched as the smith was sent careening, head first, into the stones that made up the base of the forge. The force of the impact was so great that several of the red-hot coals became from the forge. He kept his mistress's weapon at the ready due to first hand knowledge that the strange folk possessed remarkably impervious skulls and watched carefully as the smith sat up and spit out three broken teeth. When their eyes met again, he saw a new emotion the smith's face, fear.

He felt himself becoming irritated at the difficulties he was having trying to win over the smith. Furthermore, he wondered what was so offensive about his palm. His frustration and curiosity both conspired against him and in the end he acted on the impulse he had felt just few moments ago. With his mistress's sword in one hand, he stomped towards the sitting smith and sternly presented his hand, palms up, right in the face of the smith. Then, he watched as the eyes of the smith closed and began weeping olive colored tears which streamed down the smith's face. Suddenly, a remorseful feeling came over him and he closed his eyes. He searched for the source of this shame, but could find it until after he felt a circular metallic object dropped into the palm of his hand.

In that moment, he understood why.

He made a fist around the ring he had just won and sincerely wished that he could give it back. However, the strange voice in the back of his mind was now advising him not to do so. After thinking, he understood why. Since he was the ruler of these people, everything they possessed was his as well, even their lives, and if he gave back the ring, that act of contrition would be interpreted as rejection. He looked down at the weeping smith and wondered if it was too late to convince the metal worker to be a part of his small kingdom. That thought soon led him to ponder the chain of events that had brought him to this point, and what could be done about it. The more he thought about his past, present, and future, the more he found himself slowly becoming more like the Behemoth and less like the gentleman he had hoped to become.

The realization that his life long goal seemed to be even further away than it had ever been caused him to he inhale deeply in preparation to sigh. Through the smell of smoke and sweat, came the aroma of relatively fresh meat from his pack and his stomach quickly reminded him how terribly famished he was. His mind tried to juggle both his immediate need for food with his life long goal at the same time. From the mixing of these seemly unrelated thoughts came a new line of reasoning about his current predicament.

Since he was the ruler of these people, he was also responsible for their welfare.

In this new light, he no longer saw the ring as booty taken from smith, but a down payment for both protection and sustenance. He got the smith's attention and put the gold ring on his finger in a most solemn and polite manner as possible. Then, he squatted in front the smith and revealed the large piece of meat he had brought with him. He tried to speak the alien word for "yours", but the sounds his voice was able to make were still too weak to be intelligible. Upon seeing the look of sheer confusion on the smith's face, he decided that his actions would have speak for him. He quickly sliced decent sized steak from his supply and held up it for the smith to take. To his dismay, the smith refused to take the offering. He tried to convey the concept of eating by taking a nibble from the offering, but this attempt at communication only seemed to annoy the smith. As tempted as he was to shove the peace-offering through the gap created by the smith's missing teeth, he decided to try a different tactic. He approached the dim coals in the forge and found several spots that were at the correct temperature and laid the first steak down.

He watched the smith from the corner of his eye as the meat began to sizzle. At first, he detected no movement, but once the air began fill with the wonderful aroma of cooked steak his ears heard quiet moan coming from the smith. He finished cooking the first piece of meat as close to perfection as he could manage and then put it aside to rest on the rim of the forge near the smith. As he started cutting another steak from his supply of meat, his finely tuned senses told him that the smith was again standing behind him. A wicked smile slowly appeared on his face as he caught a glimpse of a grey hand reaching for the rested steak. He did not know if hunger or rivalry was spurring the smith into action, but he had to admire the amount of moxie the smith was showing so soon after being defeated.

He briefly considered letting the smith steal from him, but decided that would send the wrong message. Instead, he patiently waited until the grey hand of the smith was about to make contact with the steak. At that moment, he snatched the wrist of the smith and he fought a serious tug-o-war with the smith for several minutes. Eventually, he got the metal worker to calm down, first by shushing, followed by stroking the side of the smith's head. Once he had succeeded, he slowly coaxed the hand of the smith into opening. Then, he placed the steak into it before letting go.

While preparing another steak, he started thinking again. This this time about his interactions with the smith and how they fitted into the complex relationship system of strange folk. Based on what he knew, his actions must be confusing the hell out of the smith. The befuddled expression he saw when he looked at the metal worker seemed confirmed this theory. In hindsight, he realized that his working the bellows was seen as rivalrous by the smith, as was the subsequent fight and ring demand. Despite all of this, he was surprised that the smith responded so well to the calming ritual. The more he thought about this the more he began to suspect that the smith wanted that outcome all along.

He began cooking the second steak and then looked at the smith again. From his vantage point, he all could see was the blissful expression someone enjoying a well cooked meal. When the last bit of the first steak had been consumed, he looked into the eyes of the smith and saw no hate in them. He finished cooking the second steak and put it aside to rest while got a third ready. Behind him, he could hear the smith slowly moving towards him. He kept watch on the second steak to see if the smith would make another attempt at stealing. But, as the minutes passed, no such attempt was made. Eventually, his curiosity finally succeeded in compelling him to look in the direction of the smith again. There, waiting patiently near the second cooked steak was the same hand from before. But, this time it was palm up.

He smiled as he gave the cooked meat to the smith and then prepared a third steak. When that one was finished, the smith was again standing nearby with an upturned hand. Soon, the fourth and fifth steaks he cooked met with similar fates. Fearing that he would never get something to eat for himself , he decided to cook two steaks at once. While these did not turn out as well the previous five, he was successful in getting something inside himself to appease the gnawing hunger he was suffering from. However, upon seeing the smith begin consuming a sixth steak reminded him of the devastation and famine caused by the great dragon's appetite.

He looked at what remained of his supply of meat and frowned. At current consumption rates, he estimated that he had barely a day's supply left. Despite this development, he felt good that he was able to help the smith. From what he could determine, the smith was happy with the current arrangement between them as well. He was in the middle of a yawn when he saw another one of former cultists, wearing many ear rings, entered the smithy obviously following the scent of cooked meat. He watched as this strange folk immediately began accosting the smith. Based on the words and their tone of voice the two were using he knew the situation was slowly escalating. Despite feeling a strong urge to intervene, he resisted the temptation due to being aware of the one-track-mind the strange folk had concerning their relationships. This tension continued to until he was certain the two were about to come to blows. Then, he became amazed as the smith stopped quarreling with the other strange folk and held out an empty hand, palms up, to the other strange folk. Next, from the mouth of the smith came a single alien word that he knew.

"Trade?"

A sigh of relief escaped his lips when saw the other strange folk took off an earring and traded it for what was left of the smith's steak. Although he was thankful for not being forced to kill anyone today, so far, he was unsure what his duties and responsibilities would to the smith were. He searched his memories of his interactions with his mistress and the other strange folk he had observed in this non-affectionate relationship. There seemed to a great deal variety among the couples he could recall. Some acted as if they were siblings in a human sense, others seemed to him to have a parent and child bond or shared the rapport of student and teacher. The only common thread he find among all these relationships was that one partner of these pairs was complemented by the other. Such so, that the more prone to violence of the two was pacified. He reexamined his new relationship with the smith and wondered who was being pacified. Other than the shattered idols outside of the cave complex, the smith had not done any thing heinous or sordid, as far as he knew. Even, the smith's recent trade proved to him that the metal worker had no issues with social interactions. He let his mind chew on this mystery while he got his belongings together. When he had almost finished the answer finally came to him.

It was him.

He was the one being pacified.


	64. A partnership forms

He picked up his possessions and left the forge. As he wandered through the many underground passageways of his kingdom, he found himself focusing not on his need for sleep, but rather the recent events that had just transpired. The question of if he had "gone native" kept running through his mind. In the end, he was forced to accept that the way the smith reacted to his actions was strong evidence that he had done so. Weather or not this event was him losing yet another bit of his human nature or humanity's talent for adapting asserting itself, he was unsure. What he did know was that he needed to exercise every once of willpower he possessed to prevent his inner savage from decapitating the smith. Even though he was successful, it galled him that he could just barely sabotage his other half. The weight of these thoughts on his mind caused him to begin staggering as he walked the underground passages. Eventually, he chanced upon a small chamber that seemed secluded enough to give him respite.

After settling down, he dreamed of the golden room again. Everything was the same as before, except for the disturbing wetness he felt on his face. He touched the fluid with his hand and brought it before his eyes. Upon seeing the crimson stains on his fingers, he jumped out of the golden bed. He slowly looked back at the bed and saw more of his blood on it. Particularly, in the area where his head had rested. Again he examined the red fluid and noticed that, while it was still wet, it was now beginning to congeal and become sticky. He recalled how he had used his gift to pump the dilapidated bellows of the forge until he bleed from his eyes and wondered if these two events were somehow connected. As he pondered this new mystery, he felt something inside himself.

Something burning.

He stood still as he tried figure out the source of this unpleasant sensation. At first, he speculated his sudden departure from the golden bed might have triggered this aspect of his gift. But as the seconds passed, he recalled the last time he dreamed and recalled both his frustration with gazing at the prophetic clouds through the tiny crack in the bricked up window and his fist's abrupt encounter with the wall. Slowly, an odd thought creeped into his mind. That he somehow possessed two different bodies: one in this dream world and another on the alien world when he was awake each with its own and separate reservoir for the power his gift needed to manifest. The more he thought about it, the more his head began to hurt. He placed his hands on the sides of it as he tried to make sense of it all. But, the slowly growing internal fires of his slowly sapped his ability to reason until all he could think of was how to find relief. Since he knew that punching the stone-like bricks that made the walls of his dream room was counterproductive, he turned and approached the only object left in the room.

The golden bed.

He gave it a light punch and then braced himself for the most dire of repercussions. After many minutes passed with nothing occurring, he decided to give the bed another punch this time with smallest spark of the terrible energies he had within himself. In the instant he threw the punch, he felt a spark travel through his arm into his fist. Only to have it disappear once his hand made contact with the bed. The way the bed seemed to move for moment before shifting back to its original position amazed him. intrigued, he took a moment to assess any damage to the bed and the fires he still felt inside his body. Relieved that the golden bed was undamaged and his internal flames had diminished slightly, he decided to repeat his experiment for the next few hours until he finally exhausted all the terrible energy inside him. Once free of them, he enjoyed a few precious minutes of peace and serenity before waking up.

He slowly opened one eye to see the smith looking down at him with a bemused grin, much like his mistress often did. As he stood up, he was thankful that his newfound friend did not share the same wake-up customs that she did. His ears detected several other followers of his nearby murmuring excitedly and his nose detected the scent of raw meat. The smell reminded him of his own need for food, which in turn, prompted him to gather his things and make way to the surface. As he journeyed through the tunnels of his kingdom, he could not but help notice that the smith and the other strange folk were following him and with every turn he made towards surface, his ears sensed increasing confusion in the alien words and tones being spoken by the small crowd tailing him. Eventually, his curiosity defeated his hunger and he stopped and turned around. The smith was standing in front of small group of his other followers and after few awkward moments, he watched as the smith pointed down a passage that lead back to the forge and spoke words in a tone he found to be surprisingly respectful.

Of which he understood only three: "go", "there", and "cook"

He stared in amazement at the possibility he had just heard his first request in the strange folk's language. In the dim light that made its way down from the surface, he noticed his other followers behind the smith were carrying large fresh pieces of meat in their hands. He smiled as he began walking towards the forge happy that news of his cooking skills had spread. When he arrived at his destination, his excitement increased upon seeing that the forge had been partially converted into the beginnings of a kitchen with the addition of a crude grill. He eagerly examined the area further and found a set of tongs and a crude fork nearby that had not been there when he had left. He raked a small pile of the still burning coals together and carefully measured the heat. Once satisfied, he began cooking what remained of his food supply. The smell of a perfectly cooked steak made his stomach growl as he pull it off the grill. Behind him, he heard gasps and the sounds of excited whispering coming from his followers only for these noises to ceased once he moved for his meal aside so that it could both cool a bit and absorb its juices.

He figured he had a bit time to kill and turned towards his followers and attempt to speak to the smith. The weak whisper that issued forth from his mouth was completely drowned out by the smith's words and the excited replies of the other strange folk in the kitchen. His annoyance at being ignored was tempered by the relief he felt from the slow return of his voice. As he massaged his throat and tried a few more words, he listened to shouting match being apparently being enjoyed by the small crowd in the chamber. He quickly picked up on the use of numbers and other words related to trading. Figuring that this was opportunity to learn a few words more of the strange folk's language, he watched carefully from the corner of his eye and continued to listen. Suddenly, he saw his followers removing bits of their jewelery. These actions confused him at first. However, when he saw the smith point to his breakfast, he swiftly realized that what was happening.

His meal was being auctioned off!

To his consternation, the sudden arrival feeling of being both used and betrayed provided an excellent source of fuel for the internal fires within himself and just like in his most recent dream, he found it increasingly harder to think straight as the amount of fiery energy built up inside his body. While he was not sure if he was slipping further under the sway of his inner savage or if he was getting better at noticing when his gift was compelling his actions. He knew for certain that he was dangerously close to disaster. He fought through the angry static in his mind and began reminding himself that he often misread situations involving the strange folk.

This tactic worked preventing violent energy inside himself from increasing, until the smith took and gave his meal to the highest bidder. The feeling he was previously suppressing returned with increased potency as he watched the smith put on a new ring. In response to sensing his terrible internal fires surging once more, he grabbed one hand with the other and held them both against his chest. Then, he kept reminding himself of the great efforts he went through to keep the smith alive and that he would be throwing that all away if he acted on the violent compulsion now in his mind. He closed his eyes and focused on controlling his breathing and noticed that this exercise in self-control seemed to prevent his internal fires from being fanned further. However, he also noticed that the technique only worked as long as he used it since it did nothing to remove the emotional fuel feeding his gift.

The sounds of sizzling meat caused his eyes to open. On the grill now was much larger piece of meat than the one that had just left it. He did not start cooking right of way. Instead, he chose to glare at the smith. When the smith finally met his gaze, he saw the joy in the smith's eyes transform into confusion, and then fear before closing. Despite knowing what was going to happen next, he still was bit surprised when the smith began shushing him while approaching him and gently stroking the air in his direction. He grudgingly endured the pacification ritual although he was starting to become a bit weirded out by it. By the time the smith's eyes reopened, his mood had improved only slightly. He watched the smith's face for reaction as he continued to give a distrusting stare. Again, the confused look returned to the smith's face. Then, a grey upturned hand appeared in front of him revealing several more bits of jewelery. His surprised reaction to this offering was to softly speak a single word in the strange folk's tongue.

"Mine?"

He watched the smith become dumfounded upon hearing the barely audible word he that had uttered and noticed that it took a few moments for the smith recover before answering quietly in the affirmative. Next, the smith slyly looked back at the other strange folk in the chamber, then turned back to him and whispered a pair of alien words to him. While he clearly understood that the first word quietly spoken to him was "No", the second, however, was inscrutable. Fortunately, the confused expression he felt on his face prompted the smith to lightly pinch his lips and repeat the words. With this vital clue, he deduced that the second word had to be "speak".

The smell of burning meat focused his attention back to the grill. As he rescued the meat from its firey doom, he thought about what was going on between him and the smith. As far as he could tell, they were business partners. He was handling the production while the smith took care of sales and negotiations. He found solace in this new way of looking at things which, in turn, prevented those terrible internal fires of his from being fanned any further. However, he noticed, once again, that the terrible energy he had already built up still remained. He hoped that he could find a means of expending it soon.

Once the large piece of meat was grilled to as close to perfection as it was going to get, he move it aside. Immediately, he heard the smith restart the bidding process. Eventually, the highest bid was another raw slab of meat plus a few more baubles that were added to the bits of jewelery from before. He cooked the third piece of meat as best he could and felt his stomach grumble as it too was auctioned off. Hunger got the best of him as he cooked the fourth slab of meat and he sliced off a bit from it that was getting close to being overdone and popped it into his mouth to appease his appetite. He felt a little guilty, but his ears detected no protest. Again, the well cooked, if slightly smaller, steak was sold off and replaced with yet another piece of meat, while more trinkets from his followers were added to the growing pile of loot. As he cooked his fifth steak, he became suspicious that the number of individuals in the chamber was increasing, but shrugged and continued his culinary exploits and thought about his take from his partnership with the smith.

Unfortunately, his joy was short-lived once he thought about what to do his proceeds.

Once again, he faced the same problem from long ago when he was still avenging the death of his mistress by ambushing the merchant wagons with fire and then murdering their occupants as they attempted to flee under light of their red giant star. He estimated that a vast treasure trove of coins and other precious objects must have fallen into the muti-hued stained fingers of his only to be abandoned. Since he was completely self sufficient, anything that he could not wear, eat, or use was of no value to him back then. But now, he could see the value his followers placed on theses baubles and decided that he would keep the trinkets handy. If anything, he realized, he could just give the stuff away later and getting paid for something he would have done for free would avoid the guilt he would suffer should the need to tax his subjects ever arise.

He cooked a few more large steaks before confirming his sneaking suspicion that the number of his followers now present in the makeshift kitchen and forge chamber were increasing. He wiped the sweat from his brow and wondered was drawing them here. He discovered the answer to his question when he finally looked up. In the ceiling of the chamber was a small light that feebly made it's way down. After thinking about what he was observing, he realized he was looking up the chimney of the forge and speculated that it was the smell of cooked meat being carried on the breeze that was drawing his followers home. However, he deduced that since there was light was shining down the chimney it had to mean that it was also midday. He found it unbelievable that his followers would risk being sunburned just so that they enjoy a hot meal. But, when he looked at the newest arrivals coming into the kitchen, he noticed the pained looks on their faces.

Mindful of their sacrifices, he resumed cooking.

Only after many hours did he managed to feed everyone and he was pleasantly surprised with his share of the proceeds. When he looked at the smith, he noticed his partner had made several acquisitions as well, all dragon themed. Although what he ended up accomplishing was not what he had intended, he was happy with the day's work. He took a break and watched the smith take apart the grill and add fresh coal to the forge in preparation of getting some smiting done. After watching the smith struggle with the worn out bellows for several minutes in an attempt to bring the forge up to temperature, he recalled why he needed to go hunting in the first place.

He started to make mental plans for tomorrow when he spied a familiar looking former slave enter the chamber carrying a large haunch of meat and wearing a crudely harvested hide. He had no time to react before the smith blocked the late comer and began shouting words. Upon hearing the aliens words for "No" and "go", he sprung into action and started to step in front of the smith. suddenly, the mysterious voice in the back of his head began screaming him that he was about to endanger his relationship with the smith. Thus reminded of the strange folk's one track minds when it came to them, he swiftly changed his next course of action from helping the familiar looking former slave directly, and, instead, focused on the smith. He needed several shushes to get the smith to cease scaring away the potential customer. Once he had his partner's full attention, he pointed both to the hide the late comer was wearing and to the bellows. He watched the eyes of his business partner dart to the hide and back to the bellows several times before focusing on him in confusion.

Thinking quickly, he began making sewing motions.

As he saw a smile slowly appeared on the smith's face, he began nodding in agreement. Satisfied that he got his message across, he walked back to the forge and listened to the smith begin bargaining with the familiar looking former slave. Unlike what he had heard before, the smith's tone was far more aggressive than before and based on the angry responses, he figured this customer was getting a raw deal. Once the haggling ended, the hide was draped over the bellows and the haunch was in his hands. With a quick glance he realized that it would take forever to cook in its current state. Since the grill was no longer available, he decided to cut the meat from the bone and skewer the pieces on his mistress's sword.

However, when he brought the meat encumbered weapon over the coals of the forge he heard the smith start to stammering and stuttering. He did not understand any of words that haltingly streamed from the mouth of his business partner. Figuring the smith was just worried about the effects the heat of the forge would have on the blade of his mistress' sword, he shrugged his shoulders and continued to roast the meat skewered on the weapon. It was a technique that he had perfected during his long treks to the butterfly cult's temple and back again to the volcano and the weapon was never the worse for it. Soon, however, something in the back of his mind caused him to stop slowly rotating the meat laden weapon. He closed his eyes and concentrated on it. It was not a memory that caused him to open them in shock.

But, the lack of one.

Try as he might, he could not recall a single time he had needed to sharpen his mistress's sword. Nor, could he remember ever seeing her do the same. Curious, he pulled the weapon away from coals in the forge under the pretense of inspecting the meat and carefully examined its edge. Despite the countless battles he fought with it, edge of his mistress's weapon was still flawless. This, he knew, was not normal or natural. Even his metal spear needed regular maintenance as did the metal tipped arrows whenever he managed to recover them. Mystified, he finished cooking and gave the spit roasted meat to the grateful familiar looking former slave.

Once alone, he approached the smith and then presented his mistress' sword in a non threatening manner. The way his friend avoided touching the weapon at first surprised him, but after a few minutes the hands of his friend were lightly running over the sword, especially over the alien glyphs that decorated the blade. He felt a gentle tug as his partner tried to politely take the weapon from him. Unfortunately, he sensed his hand instantly overreact to this accidental attempt to disarm him by tightening around the hilt of his mistress' weapon. When he saw the smith was back away slowly, he suddenly became aware that he was now clenching his teeth and breathing heavily through them. He silently cursed himself for letting his inner savage get the best of him again and wondered briefly why different stimuli were provoking different reactions from his alter-ego. He theorized that it was the magnitude of the perceived threat that was a factor and, on this world, being parted from the one thing that had protected him thus far from its many dangers ranked far higher than some hurt feelings.

A gentle shushing sound distracted him.

Looking towards the origin of the sound, he saw the smith again approaching him with closed eyes while pawing at the air. He stifled a groan when he realized that he had to endure a another round of the pacification ritual administered by his friend. As he was lightly stroked had more gentle shushing noises made at him, he wondered if this behavior was instinctual for the strange folk or learned. When the torture was over, he watched the smith moisten a rag with the contents of a small vial and begin slowly scrubbing the alien glyphs of his mistress's sword. The smell of alcohol that reached his nose hinted at the solution's purpose and the smith's intention. He continued to watch and the as the grime, bloodstains, filth, and who-knows-what-else slowly disappeared underneath the smith's rapidly moving rag. The fact that his mistress's weapon was so filthy shocked him, however what he saw underneath the rag nearly floored him.

In the light of the forge, he saw that the blade had a golden hue.

He knew he had seen that color somewhere else. As he search his memories, he heard the smith talking to him. He was able to pick out the words "you", "this", and "pick up" from the stream of alien words and noticed the tone was again polite. But, he was not sure if he was being asked a question or being given information. All he could do was give the smith a bewildered look. For the next several minutes he watched as his friend paced back and forth while deep in thought. He was about to begin patching up the forge's bellows when the smith finally stopped and turned towards him with hands on cheek. Unsure what to make of his friend's antics, he gave the smith another confuse look.

In response, the fingers of his friend began to undulate.

He watched this perplexing display for a few seconds before the memory he was searching for came to him. On one of the walls of the back chamber of his mistress's cave, he recalled there were two figures that represented the leaders at war with each other and they both wielded double-headed tridents with the same golden color of his mistress' weapon. In that moment he realized why the smith reacted so strangely. The weapon he had been using so very long was made from the same material as the ones used by the supreme matriarchs of the two factions that had fought over this ruined land not so long ago.

He contemplated the raw power these aquatic strange folk must possess to justify the need for such a durable alloy and the smith's reaction to just seeing one their weapons. While his heart began to race, a gloom fell on him. He staggered over to the bellows hoping the repair job would distract him, but he could not prevent his own mind from playing out various combat scenarios against an aquaticly adapted foe. A different scenario would play out with each piece of hide he cut out. Only to end the same way each and every time, defeat. He could not find any tactic or stratagem that lead to victory and by the time he had finished repairing the forge's bellows, he had exhausted all apparent possibilities.

Slowly, he became aware that had not been paying a lick of attention to the smith all this time and was surprised to see that his friend had already prepped the forge and wanted him to begin pumping. With his first exertion upon the bellows, he was nearly blinded by the forge roaring to life. At first, he thought he had released some of the burning energy inside himself, but a quick self assessment proved that none of it had been expended. In fact, he found they were slowly building up again due to the tension he was feeling. Figuring his repair job went better than he had expected, he began gradually reducing the amount of effort he put into operating the bellows. Until, he found that he could leave it alone for minutes at a time while he focused on the smith's craftwork.

During one of these breaks from pumping the bellows that he was force to dodge an errant sliver of red-hot metal. The ingot it was originally a part of had shattered between the smith's hammer and the forge's anvil and in the temporary slow motion world of his, he watched as the glowing bit of metal flew past him, ricocheted off the forge's chimney and down one the hallways that lead from the chamber. The sound the red-hot metal fragment made as it did this sounded like a bullet to his ears. Suddenly reminded of one variable he had not yet considered, he stood transfixed as one last scenario played out in his mind.

Its favourable outcome gave him cause to smile.

He looked at the smith right in the eyes, then at the ingots in the fire and finally at the hammer in his friend's hands. Then, he watched as his non-verbal communication prompted the smith to put down the hammer and take up a position next to the bellows. Upon seeing this, he approached the forge filled with a new sense of purpose and grabbed an ingot from fire with the tongs and placed it on the anvil. As he raised the smith's hammer into the air, he summoned his gift and begin channeling it through his arm that held the hammer. Not a spark, but a torrent of burning energy that he felt travel through his arm.

As he swung the hammer down, he knew he had much to learn.


	65. Apprenticeship

He struck the red-hot metal ingot and winced in pain as the resulting shower of sparks seared his face and arms. He heard to a faint snickering nearby and fought the temptation release the tongs and hammer in his hands and wrap them around the throat of the aggravating sound's source. He returned his focus back to the still glowing lump of metal in the tongs and thought about what just happened and concluded that he had used far too much force. Starting over, he decided to try expending the tiniest amount of the burning energy inside himself to fuel his gift and then increase from there. By following this plan, he soon found just the right amount of force he needed to reshape the red-hot metal. However, he also discovered that making these precise expenditures of the burning energy that fueled his gift was a difficult task due to the seductive, but temporary peace he felt whenever he did so.

He experimented with various edges and surfaces of the forge's anvil and observed their effect on the ingot's form until it cooled to the point that he could no longer manipulate its form. As he reheated the lump of metal in the forge, he thought about what he could make with it. He briefly considered attempting making a knife, but discarded that idea since he still retained most of his mistress' metal tools. After thinking further about his gear, he recalled the superior performance of the metal tipped arrows he had acquired from the Behemoth's supply. Although incredibly sharp, the obsidian tipped arrows he crafted were prone to shattering if they struck a bone. Which in turn, tended to make their recovery unlikely and made consuming the meat he hunted hazardous to consume due to the shards of razor-sharp glass that were often left to lurk.

Now armed with a goal, he walked over to his gear before returning to anvil with one of his handmade arrows. He attempted to communicate his intention to the smith by presenting its tip to his friend before picking up the hammer and tongs again. Unsure which end of the arrowhead to start on first, he decided to begin fabricating the tip first.

He began hammering the glowing metal with the smith's hammer and eventually formed a crude broad tip by the time the metal needed reheating again. As he briefly admired his handiwork in the glow of the forge, he heard the snickering return. He instantly became suspicious that he had made yet another error based on his friend's mirth, and tried to deduce where he made a mistake. Unable to see where he went wrong, he decided to press onwards.

Only after several failures, did he get an inkling of his error.

No matter what he tried, he could not separate the half-finished arrowhead from the increasingly mangled ingot. Even worse, every time he fixed his error, a new one would appear. Meanwhile, he found that this exercise in frustration proved an excellent source of fuel for his gift and he found it more and more difficult to focus with every failure. To prevent tragedy, he shoved the smith's hammer into the hands of his friend and the thoroughly mutilated ingot he had been hammering on back into the forge. Then, he took up his old position next to the bellows. He detected a certain measure of disdain as his friend worked the misshapen ingot back into its previous form. Then, transformed it into a rod as thick his thumb. As his friend performed this task, he noticed his friend's mood had worsened. At first he thought that his frustrated actions had caused the smith to return to their previous rivalous relationship when they first met. But that line of reasoning was proven false when he saw his friend look at him with calm understanding during a brief respite.

However, the moment the smith went back to hammering, he saw his friend's face become transformed by a deep unabiding hatred.

Upon seeing this, he realized that his friend hated being a blacksmith and confirmed his earlier suspicion that their first encounter was just a case of mixed signals. While he empathize with his friend's plight, he also began seeing this situation from a different and more alien perspective. His experiences with his mistress gave him first hand knowledge that hateful emotions empowered the strange folk. Because of this, he found it easy to understand why his friend was a natural match for this job. The irony of this situation was not lost on him and he made a resolution to master the smith's trade in the hope that, one day, he could liberate his friend from this unpleasant duty.

This oath helped clear away the angry static in his mind and he found it was becoming easer to concentrate upon the smith's work. Once he was fully focused again, he saw that his friend had heated and then hammered flat one end of the rod. At first he thought his friend was using a technique for creating flatten arrowheads, much like the stone and obsidian ones he crafted. However, he soon realized that this speculation was also false when he observed the smith continued to flattening out the end of the rod before bending it. Mystified to his friend's reasons for doing so, he watched as the smith continued rolling the flat ends until they overlapped one another. As his friend welded the two sides of flattened section permanently together, he understood what his friend had just done was fabricate a small tube for the arrow's shaft to fit into.

Excitement rushed through him as the realization hit him that he was now one step closer to recreating his stolen birthday present!

He calmed himself and continued to watch the smith effortlessly separate the still glowing portion of the rod from the rest of it. From there, his friend pick up the half-finished arrowhead with the tongs and heated the unworked end of the half-finished arrowhead in the forge before hammering it into a spike. After a quick quenching, the smith handed him the finished product. Upon inspection, he noted it was a bit heavier than his obsidian or stone arrowheads and his finger told him its tip was a bit duller too. However, he knew that could be easily fixed with a few minutes with a whetstone. Behind him, he heard his friend begin forging again. But, his curiosity got the better of him and he carefully removed the arrowhead from one of his handmade arrows and shoved the new metal one onto it. After checking the arrow's balance, he knew he could hunt with it.

Once he finished examining the finished product, he return to watching the his friend's craftwork and found it surprising the amount of arrowheads it was possible to get out of a single ingot. When the smith had finished the last of them, he figured he had seen enough to give the task another go. He again he walked towards the anvil and held out his hand. Once given the hammer, he retrieved another ingot from the forge and began following the steps that he had witnessed. He found the shaping the ingot into a rod was not too difficult, although getting it to a uniform thickness without accidently causing it to warp or bend was problematic. The trick, he discovered, was to make many light strikes with the hammer.

With the rod completed, he heated one end of it in preparation of the next step. With a dozen strikes he flattened out the glowing end of the rod just like he saw his friend do. However, he found getting the sides of the rod's now flattened portion to meet was problematic due to their an annoying tendency to fold or bend in every way, except the one he desired and when they cooled too much, they would break off. Each time he had to rehammer his mistakes and start over or heard his friend's snickering, he felt both angry static in his mind and the terrible burning energy inside him increase. Several times he came to the point where he felt the urge give up again, or worse, lashing out. During these moments he refocused his resolve by reminding himself of his goal.

As a result of these repeated challenges, he eventually found he could transcend what he had believed were his previous limitations. Likewise, the knowledge necessary to coax a simple arrowhead out of a rod of metal came to him a bit with every mistake he made. By the time he finally succeeded in making one, he had completely lost track the time. All he knew was that his body was completely spent. He felt his hands and arms ache as he inspected his own handiwork. Like his first pair of boots he ever made, it was barely serviceable. But he was still proud of his efforts and was pleasantly surprised the smith finally ceased snickering at him when presented with the end result of his labour.

He was not sure if it was from shock or something else.

After upgrading another one of his arrows with the new arrowhead, he left his gear behind as he left the forge to find somewhere to rest. Primarily, because he was too tired to take it with him and that he had finally accepted that none of his followers were going to steal from him. As he staggered once more through his underground kingdom, he felt the urge to get out of the caves and feel the light of the sun on his skin once more. Figuring that he had been underground for too long, he made plans to go hunting as soon as possible. Once he found a suitable place he rested and dreamt of the golden room again. The prophetic clouds in his dreams remained as enigmatic as ever, or at least what he could see of them through the crack in the bricked up window. Despite this, he maintained his vigil for hours until he caught a glimpse of something round, blue and green. He snapped wide awake and oblivious to the small crowd around him with a terrible heart wrenching feeling inside of him. As he spent next several minutes attempting purge himself of it, one question kept repeating in his mind.

"Was it still possible return home?"

The smell of fresh blood provided the distraction he needed. Looking around, he saw that the smith was present among the crowd of his other followers. He wondered just how long they had stood there just staring while he slept. As badly he wanted get above ground, he knew that hunting on an empty stomach was not a good idea. He reluctantly made his way down to the kitchen and forge chamber and surveyed the alterations the smith made while he was sleeping. To his delight, there were multiple grills already setup and ready. He picked the tongs and began raking the coals in the forge around to spread out the heat. Behind him he heard the smith begin enthusiastically haggling.

With the additional grills he was able to cook for, what seemed to him, his entire entourage in record time. Furthermore, he could not help but notice that the meats given to him to cook were now varied in colour and taste. This change told him that his followers had exhausted the megafauna's potential as a food source and had, fortunately, moved onto other game. This conclusion was further supported by today's proceeds. In the small bag that held his share, he found a number of teeth and claws and other inedible animal parts. While, the amount of jewelry had diminished. He thought about this finding and realized that he and the smith had nearly exhausted his follower's supply of treasure. At the bottom of the bag, he found something odd. It was white and metallic with a green line running across one side of its surface with several small holes on the reverse side. His memories of home told him that this object had to plug into something else. He continued to scrutinize at the hand size object for several minutes before an old memory revealed he had seen something like it before.

The portal device that had brought him here.

Immediately and without warning, the homesick feeling from before assailed him again. He walked slowly towards the throne room while carefully cradling the strange object. Once there, he approached the platform that had fail to take him back home. He thought about how much time had passed since then and found it hard to hard pin it down any closer than about week. Once he was close enough, he surveyed the damage to the platform and the metal spire that channeled the lightning from the sky to power it. The platform itself appeared to be undamaged, but the spire was still in the sorry state he had left it about a week prior. His investigation revealed that bottom of the metal spire had suffered most of the damage. There, he found a few, now bent, large metal blades that reminded him of an electrical plug. A quick glance at the portal platform revealed similar configuration of holes that he presumed that the metal spire had been plugged into. From there, he turned his attention back to the spire and searched along its length for any socket like openings.

He found several such places.

He carefully compared the holes in the back of the strange object he held to the empty sockets on the spire until he found one that had both the same configuration of metal spikes in it with a matching green line. With trembling hands he carefully inserted the strange object, completely unsure what function it served or even if it was operational. Once he felt the mysterious object become fully seated in its receptacle a brief burst of static cling he felt wash over his skin. This hint that the metal spire still retained some of its stored power stirred a powerful and hopeful feeling. However, as he contemplated the location of the other missing pieces another feeling began to make its presence know.

Shame.

He did not need to search long for the origin of this new emotion. The promise he made long ago to himself to survive this world and return to earth had now run headlong into the new responsibility he now had to these strange people. In his heart, he knew there was no middle ground and for nearly an hour he mentally debated the issue. Eventually, he realized that he should not have gotten his hopes up. Even if he could find the remaining missing pieces of the spire, managed to fixed it, and succeeded plugging its massive size into the platform again there were no guarantees that the portal would work. In the end, he concluded that this was not a choice he had to make at this time.

He felt both the hope and shame diminish leaving behind only the homesickness.

He as he began briskly marching towards the forge to recover his gear, he felt the walls of his underground kingdom slowly closing in. desperately needing to get outside as soon as possible, he entered the forge and took stock of his gear. In the time between him leaving and returning, he noticed that his friend had taken the liberty of upgrading all of his arrows with metal heads. He smiled at the smith before leaving and dismissed the few arrivals who were holding raw meat for him to cook. With haste, he made his way up and out of the caves. He took a few moments to bask in the fading light before setting off towards where he had slain the megafauna.

He did not care if leaving at this time of day meant he would have to sleep in the rough. All that mattered to him at this moment was to get as far away as possible from the source of the terrible yearning in his heart. The trip lasted through the night and much of the next day and it pleased him to see that the devastation caused by the great dragon had retreated even further than the last time he was outside. Despite, his progress being slowed by all the new vegetation. When he first saw remains of his kill, he mistook it for a small hill and nearly passed it by. Thankfully, a few of his followers called out his moniker and drew his attention.

Once under it, it appeared to be just like one of the many refuges that he had camped under during his travels back to volcano. Except, for the massive ribs that formed the walls and ceiling. The smell that entered his nostrils told him that the primary material used to cover the massive structure was, in fact, dung. This discovery did not inspire revulsion in him as he realized that his followers had inadvertently done him a favour. Of the three primary ingredients he needed for his weapon, the hardest to find or produce were the off-white crystals formed when organic material decomposes. Since this structure was made up the stuff, he figured all he needed to do was wait a few seasons while nature did its thing. He hoped all the hunting his followers were doing in the area would keep anything that might be interested in the smelly structure away from it. Happy with his findings, he found a place to rest and spent a few minutes wondering how many of the refuges he visited had their start like this one.

Again his dreams were enigmatic and yield little insight to his future. He finally awoke just as dawn was about to break. He spent a good portion of the morning sharpening and practicing with his new arrows and once satisfied he set off for food. He quickly found several smaller beasts to fill his belly with and roasted their remains over a small fire he fueled with some dried out musclebeast droppings. As he ate, thought about the ingredients he needed for his special weapon project. He needed to find carbon, either in the form of coal or charcoal. But, based on what he had seen in the forge, he figured that was not going to be a problem.

It was the lack of a certain yellow element that bothered him. As best he could recall, there was no known way of producing the rotten egg smelling chemical. He would have to find a naturally occurring source of it. He searched his memories as he gazed at the volcano in the distance and recalled stories about mineral springs heated by volcanism. If there were a place he could find what he needed, then he would find it on the slopes of the volcano. Still, he frowned at the thought of exploring its many cliffs and ridges. It was not distance that bothered him, but the dangers involved in climbing the fiery peak. Unlike the savage beasts of this world and its people, he knew that avalanches, poison gases and pyroclastic flows were not something that could be studied and then killed.

Only prepared for.

As he was finishing the last of his meal, he knew that he lacked the rope and the other proper bits for such a grueling climb. But, every time he looked at the fiery peak in the distance it seemed to taunt him. He looked at the arrowhead he had personally crafted and made a solemn vow that he would pay a visit to the volcano if he successfully killed something with it. He immediately froze as the absurdity of letting chance dictate his actions struck him. He knew he had to visit the volcano for the yellow element required for his weapon. He looked at the arrowhead he had created himself and thought about his life up to this point. Like the arrow he was now examining, he saw he made plenty mistakes and the more he thought it, the more he saw a disturbing trend. That the majority of his actions on this world were simply him reacting to the situations presented to him.

Upon seeing this, he decided it was time for a change.

He had long suspected that his inner savage was a factor in the sudden and unshakable resolve that often possessed him and to proved this once and for all he grabbed his self-made arrow with both his hands, placed his thumbs on the middle of the arrow's shaft, and began applying force. Instantly, he felt the muscles in his arms begin to tense up and relax violently as if a seizure had struck him. This result was all the evidence he needed to confirm his speculation. Undaunted, he continued his attempt to break both his recent vow and the arrow it was centered on and as if on cue, he sensed the those terrible fires inside himself become fanned.

In his mind's eye, he pictured his inner savage as a wild and disobedient child trying its best to tear away the object of its obsession. He kept reminding himself of the absurdity of this situation as he felt the tremors in his hands and arms worsened as them spread. He smiled at this developement and began mentally repeating to himself that he could always make a new arrow in under ten minutes easily, having done so more times than he could remember. However, this attempt at discounting his alter-ego's response seemed to drive the wild and unkept child in his imagination into a deeper rage, while at the same time, the progressively worsening tremors started working their way up his neck and into his face.

Unfazed, he continued his calm and fatherly reasoning approach with his inner savage's tantrum even as his body's rebellion caused his heart to race. Not even the pounding headache or the stilted breathing through clenched teeth managed to dissuade him from his goal of snapping the arrow. Inside of his head, he sensed that his alter-ego had gone into a full frenzy as his vision began to turn, first pink, then red which, in turn, collimated in bloody tears that he felt running down his face as this battle of wills escalated further. Still, he persisted. Knowing that full well that beloved toys being fought over by two children tended to become broken in their tug-of-war, so too the arrow he gripped shall be broken.

He knew it was simply matter of being patient.

He lost track of time once the time altering aspect of his gift became active. With the stress of this conflict fueling his gift, it manifested for far longer than he had ever experienced before. After what seemed like days to him, there came a sound. He could not hear it over the sound of his heart's pounding at first. But, it grew in intensity as time caught up to him. Once his vision cleared, he saw what his fingers had been telling him for the last few minutes.

He had won.

While he knew that this was just another skirmish in the war over his soul, but he felt relived that he prevailed in a battle of his choosing. He looked towards the volcano and made the conscious decision to pay it a visit. Behind him, a few whispered words in the strange folk's tongue reminded him that he was not alone. When he looked at his followers, the way they began nervously looking at one another while slowly backing away told him they had watched what had just transpired. He decided it just as well that they were not going with him.

Just him, versus the volcano.


	66. Falling Down

He gazed into the pungent smoke emitting fire and thought about the gear he needed to make his ascent on the volcano that much safer. After a few minutes of thought, he felt the wetness on his face begin to dry and crust up. Upon wiping the drying blood away he got his first clue about why the few followers nearby were suddenly so reserved. He laughed at the sight he imagined he presented to them and though it would be wise to conduct future contests with his alter-ego in more private settings. With that matter resolved, he returned to his thoughts to the challenges of the volcano once more.

A grappling hook, some rope, and a means of getting fresh air were highest on his list. Other useful objects were considered, such as a spyglass or some other means of viewing distant objects, but were ultimately rejected due to the impossibility of locating the necessary parts. He tried constructing one several times before, but was always frustrated by the strange folk's propensity to colour most of their personal belongings, even their eyewear, the same colour as their blood.

He let out a sigh before turning back to the task of doing what he could, with what he had currently at hand. While he would have preferred a metal grappling hook with a long length of chain, he knew his metalworking skills were not quite up to the task yet. Furthermore, the lack of any trees on the horizon made him rule out wood as well. Refusing to give up, he contemplated the bones of his last meal and saw a possible solution to his lack of resources. experimentally, he cast a few bones into the dung fueled fire and found that they tolerated both the heat and the flame. Another test involving the skin of the creatures he had recently eaten proved they could hold up under high temperature conditions as well as support a significant amount of weight. With these findings, he felt confident that a the grappling hook created from bones and a rope woven from strips of hide would suffice as basic climbing gear.

The last item on his list was to find some means of surviving the dangerous gases that often accompanied eruptions. He knew a gas mask or scuba gear was obviously out the question, but as he thought about how to survive the poisonous air the old memory came of the time he had almost asphyxiated himself when he mistakenly built a campfire in the back chamber of his mistress's cave. That experience taught him that bad air displaced fresh air. Which, in turn, lead him to the understanding that he did not need to filter what he breathed, only that he needed to keep his head above the smothering invisible fumes. Inspiration struck him and he quickly stitched together a crude tube with the hides from his kills. However, when he attempted test his newly crafted snorkel by breathing through it while it was suspended over the smelly dung fire, the resulting coughing fit convinced him that he need to find something free of cracks and holes.

Ideally, a natural occurring tube of some sort.

Now armed with a shopping list, he began considering what types creatures he needed to hunt so that he could procure the raw materials needed for these projects. He knew the creature had to quite large so he could have his pick of bones to use for his grappling hook. While the hides could come from any number creatures, he speculated that whatever he hunted for bones should possess enough serviceable material covering its body for his rope. He became stumped about what to do about his "snorkel" project. The lack of tall grass and other plants, such as bamboo, in the region vexed him.

He mulled over his requirements one more time and thought about what prey he needed to hunt to satisfy them and found there were only a few creatures that fit the bill. Furthermore, the lack of vegetation and the prey species that needed to feed upon it meant that most of the large predators on his target list were unlikely to be in the region. He looked at the bones that held up the dung covered refuge and recalled that the musclebeasts always traveled in great herds as they fed. Thus, he reasoned, that were there was one, there ought to be others. He climbed the bony structure of the dung covered refuge and searched for any tracks the megafauna he had killed the week prior might have left. Leading away from the refuge, he spied a series of "U" shaped depressions in the ground.

He let his eyes follow the trail as far as he could see. From his vantage point, the trail seemed to lead around the volcano. He bit his lower lip as he realized that this hunt would keep him away from his followers for many days. He pondered recent events and decided that his followers were at least competent enough to get by without him for a little while. However, he did not wish to tempt fate any more than was necessary and decided he would resort to using his gift to speed his journey. He packed what was left of his meal knowing that he would be completely ravenous after such a strenuous effort he about to subject himself to and walked out of sight of his followers.

Once alone, He took a moment to take stock of the amount of the fiery energy inside himself and found it lacking. He figured that his recent bout with his alter-ego had drained his reserves. As he closed his eyes and recalled the death of his mistress, he found it a bit odd that he was about to intentionally fueling the his gift with the bitter memories of her that he still possessed. While time had done a reasonable job of healing the sense of loss he had felt over her death, but it had done nothing about the frustrating, and unanswerable questions he still asked himself about the circumstances her demise.

The biggest of which was the question of "why?"

He felt a great and terrible frown appear on his face as he let this and the other questions echo in his mind. The lack of answers provided the stimulus he needed to first ignite, then fan those terrible internal fires of his. Once he had built them sufficiently, he willed the burning energy down through his spine and into his legs. As he took his the first stride of his journey, he invoked the purple face-like icon in his mind. Instantly, he felt all the fatigue in his body start to melt away as he began running.

The megafuana's trail lead him into rough terrain and It did not take long for him to encounter embankments that too steep to run across and crevices so wide that he need to circumnavigate. The difficult landscape combined with the megafauna's trail maddening habit of disappearing for stretches at a time both slowed his progress and soured his mood. As it worsened, his mind began to become filled with an angry static. As before, when he was learning the blacksmith's art from his friend, this static made it harder for him to think clearly. However, unlike before, there was nothing for him to vent his spleen on or no goal for him accomplish. Furthermore, every time he lost time by having to back track some obstacle, he notice this static seemed to get worse.

Eventually, his patience came to an end.

He had come to one seemingly bottomless ravine too many and was no longer in the mood to search up and down its length for some alternative to the rash action until he was now contemplating. He looked at the far side of the of the ravine and noticed there was a ledge that was lower than the one he was standing on. Convinced that he had found a place where for him to make a vault from, he examined the ground around him and noticed it had been recently disturbed by one of the volcano's rumblings not too long time ago. A quick kick to one of the smaller boulders that lined the edge of the chasm proved provided additional evidence that his initial suspicion was true when it tumbled from its perch easily. Despite knowing that it a bad idea to even try under these conditions, he pulled out his metal spear and took a moment to build up even more of the fiery energy inside himself before charging the chasm. When he reached the brink, he channeled those terrible internal fires of his into both his arms and legs before slamming the butt of his metal spear into the ground. Only to mumbled a curse as he felt his spear penetrate the ground too deeply.

Carried by his momentum, he skidded off the precipice and into the ravine. As he came to violent stop, he felt his fingers maintain their iron grip on his metal spear. For a few moments he heard nothing but the sound of small amounts of gravel pouring down the steep sides of the ravine. However, just as he was in the middle of coming up with a plan to get himself out this situation, the sound of several large stones following the gravel downwards compelled him to glanced at where his metal spear was now embedded. There, he noticed a spider web of cracks spreading radially from it. Suspecting an avalanche was imminent, he felt his heart begin to pound fiercely.

At first, he considered abandoning his weapon and begin climbing upwards back onto the ledge. But, soon discarded that notion when he recalled both that his spear could be vital to his plans to mitigate the potentially toxic gasses of the volcano and that the ledge just above him was now dangerously unstable due to his actions. Thus forced to recover his weapon, he steeled himself as he swung hand over hand over to where his metal spear was impaled. Then, planted his feet against the crumbling surface of the ravine, closed his eyes, channeled the burning energy inside him into his hands and legs one more time and, finally, pulled with everything he had.

As he felt his spear come free of the cliff face, he sensed that time too, was releasing him its grip.

With closed eyes, he sensed he was now in uncontrolled tumble. What was presented to him when opened them again was a graceful slow-motion glide, but he knew better. As he continued his uncontrolled slow-motion descent, he noticed the ravine's surface was mostly comprised of gravel and dirt. Furthermore, with every full rotation of his body he noticed that the ravine's side was slowly coming closer to him due to its slightly less than perpendicular angle to his descent. He resisted the temptation of reaching out to the increasingly blurry surface and waited for it to come even closer. Once well within range of his spear, he stabbed his weapon into it and was rewarded with explosive spray of dirt and stones that blasted him in the face. During this moment of contact, he felt the spear pull free almost instantly. In doing so, however, he also sensed that it's brief interaction with the ravine's wall had the desired effect of canceling out the unwanted gyrations in his fall.

Figuring that since his first attempt at arresting his worked so well, he waited for his trajectory to bring him near the side of the ravine once more. After mentally bracing himself, he channeled another great torrent of fiery energy through his arms and hands and drove his spear point first into the dirt and gravel covering the ravine's wall. As before, his reward was another gravel facial before his metal spear became free. Undaunted, he repeated these attempts at arresting his fall, and noticed his spear remained stuck just a little bit longer each time and that each resulting spray of debris was reduced as well. Eventually, he the angle of the ravine's embankment flattened out just enough for him to begin body surfing. He continued using his metal spear as brake until he came to a stop. He sensed time was slowly catching up with him as he rested his head against the side of the ravine. Through the dirt and gravel he sensed something odd. There were now odd thumps and other vibrations he felt between the fierce beats of his own heart.

Curious, he looked up.

The sight that greeted him reflexively triggered the actions required to get him back onto his feet. As turned his head away from sight of what appeared to him was the entire side of the volcano now coming down on him, he felt the same alteration in his perception of time his gift imposed every time it manifested. However, this time, it did so an intensity he was completely unfamiliar with. He began to run by raising his foot ,but soon found his movements had become slow and laborious. Even the very air around him seemed to conspire against him by becoming suddenly viscous and when combined with the danger coming from above, caused the burning energy inside him to quickly fill his capacity for it.

He attempted to channelling the fiery energies inside himself. Only to find that there was no need for him to do so. For the energy was already there where he needed it to be and discovered that it expanded itself the moment he need it. He found this phenomenon peculiar at first but, with each slow motion stride he made down the ravine's embankment, the truth of what was happening to him slowly revealed itself to him.

He and his alter-ego, for one rare moment, had exactly the same goal, self-preservation!

He made a dozen more slow motion strides before the first large boulders warned him of the advancing avalanche by barely missing him. Figuring that he was in directly in front of the oncoming landslide, he altered his trajectory by banking hard so that his new path would take down the ravine's banked surface at an angle. With his first few steps, he discovered that the surface he was attempting to run on possessed less than solid construction. It was not long when he felt his one of his legs slide out from under him. To correct this stumble, he sensed his arm reflexively push against the dirt and gravel to right himself. Fully aware that his new path had only bought him a few more precious seconds, he was surprised when another mass of stone careened pass him. He swiftly realized that the sound of its sudden arrival and departure were out by pounding of his own heart. Despite the dangers, he resisted the temptation to look back and instead remained focused on running to keep ahead of the avalanche that he was certain was right on his heels.

When he reached very bottom of the ravine, he sensed that more solid earth was now under his feet. He immediately broke into a slow motion sprint but was soon overtaken by a cloud of blinding and choking dust. As it enveloped him, he felt his heart slow its rapid pace for a moment before resuming its earlier fierce beating. He looked as far ahead as he could through the dust and saw the many boulders and bushes that stood between him safety. Instead of the lazy pace that previous obstacles usually approach him at, these were approaching at brisker pace.

He was able pondered this alteration in his gift's manifestation for a few moments before a large stone stuck him from behind. The powerful blow caused him to stagger for a few steps before he managed to regain his balance and in those moments he noticed that his heart, again, appeared to briefly slow down before catching up. When he had resumed his attempts at absconding from avalanche behind him, he saw the obstructions in his path were now approaching at faster rate. He easily dodged the first of these and when he saw that he had brief respite from them, he closed his eyes and turned his focus inwards as he kept running.

The first thing he noticed was that his previously full reserves of the fiery energy that fueled his gift were now completely spent. Paradoxically, his current rate of generating this burning power was so great that he easily sensed the paths this energy flowed. From just above his neck and down through his spine, he saw that some of it entered his lungs and heart, while the rest continued downwards into his legs.

Suddenly, another stone struck him.

As he expected, the pain from this event resulted in an increase flow of burning energy. As he watched it begin its journey he noticed there was previously unnoticed upward path that a portion of this fiery power traveled into his brain. The instant this surge of power entered his mind, he experienced the same heart slowing sensation from before. Which lasted until the increased flow of burning energy reached his heart. His eyes snapped opened as he processed this new information and as he wiped the accumulating mud made from the dust and his own spit from his nose and mouth a dangerous though came to him.

"What if there was no such thing as "enough" as far as his gift was concerned."

He did not know how his increasingly warped sense of time was allowing him to run faster and faster. It made more sense that everything should stay about same, but he decided not question it since he needed all the help he could get. He looked ahead and spied particularly nasty looking shrub adorned with thorns and charged towards it with one hand tightly gripping and his other hand pressing his stylish but, serviceable hat down on his head. Although he felt no pain as he crashed face first into the thorny bush, the vibrations he felt coming from his throat revealed to him he was now screaming. When he emerged from the vegetation he noticed that his pace had quickened even further. Theory now proven, he allowed his imagination to run wild and under the influence of his gift, it did so with wild abandon.

He watched as every boulder, plant, and all other obstacles began to take on a demonic cast to their features in the increasingly obscuring dust cloud. Soon after, he began imagining hearing their combined mocking laughter with every time me made a misstep or was forced to slow down to navigate some obstruction. Even with all of his increased speed, he still had the sneaking suspicion that it was still not enough and he began searching his memories for anything that he could use stoke the internal fires inside himself. With each discovery of another painful memory, he noticed another increase in speed. By time he had recalled and gone through all his emotional baggage involving his mistress, his progress through his increasingly slow motion world appeared to him to be a steady jog. When the brown and dusty fog began turning towards more reddish hues, the feeling that he was still was not traveling fast enough persisted. Wondering where else could he find more fuel for his gift, he became desperate enough to look deep inward where he kept hidden a question that under normal circumstances he would never ask himself.

"Was he still a man, or had he become a monster that was now pretending to be one."

Bit by bit, the evidence piled on both sides of this question. On side were memories of all the times in his life he had successfully restrained inner savage, and other were the seemingly countless dead strange folk that he had killed. Not just the ones slain in self-defense, but the also the ones he had murdered out of revenge for his slain mistress. The fact he was colluding with his alter ego at this very moment appeared very damning to him. As his internal debate raged, he noticed a slow steady increase speed of the hazards coming in view in the reddish cloud around him.

His internal debate continued to what seemed like to him forever. As result, he was unsure both how long and far he raced. To him it seemed like days, if not weeks. The only thing that he was certain about was that the length of time he had used his gift for had exceeded far beyond what he had ever previously done so. Although he had lost sight of the ravine's embankments in the red fog, he kept up his mad pace due to the knowledge that landslides can often travel for miles. Sometimes he came across repeating undulations in the ground which tried to follow. Eventually, he began to wonder just how far could he could keep pushing his body and if was there a limit to his gift's ability.

He got his answer when the smell of fresh dung hit him..

The moment the unpleasant aroma hit his nostrils, he ceased running. The fiery energy that was powering his body did likewise causing him to collapse. He ended up face down on the ground thoroughly spent and as the seconds passed his body began to acknowledged all the deferred pain his running had generated. Despite being absolutely wracked with pain, he tried laughing at himself. But could only generate an half-hearted chuckle in between the involuntary gasps he was now suffering from. He needed several minutes before he see anything other than shifting swirls of red.

Once his vision had cleared enough, he saw from the corner one eye, the volcano. However, what he could see of it was not familiar. He tried turning his head to get a better look, but he found that simple act required a herculean effort to accomplish. What he saw caused him to blink in disbelief. Not only, he was now on the other side of the volcano. But, the time of day was late morning. These observations along with the great pains he was now experiencing lead him to one conclusion. That he had traveled at a full run through the better part of yesterday and all of last night.

Slowly, he became aware of the incredibly dangerous he had managed to put himself in. Not far away, he heard the growl of one this world's ambush predators.

And the sound was coming closer.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration for this story came from a few different sources.
> 
> First was my first no-death playthru of Taito's 1987 classic RASTAN! For those who don't know, this game is a hard as hell hack-n-slash platformer. This game requires you to have Vriska levels of luck as the health restore items in the game had a bad habit of not appearing when you needed them! Worst of all, the game has a rather nasty monster respawn rate. If you hack your way through the game too fast, you will get hit. Go too slow, you'll get overwhelmed by the endlessly spawning monsters. The only way I found to beat the game was to follow a strange "cautious aggression" strategy. It was during ending sequence, that the idea of the some of the humanoid game sprites only needed a palette swap to make them trolls! That thought lead me on to consider what kinds of arcade games would trolls play, their difficulty levels and such.
> 
> Then, the Great Homestuck Hiatus of 2011 happened and some inspiring pieces of the artwork of Fedora Freak and the troll empress were created. This one in particular struck me: http://fault-classic.deviantart.com/art/FedoraFreak-VS-Troll-Empress-193019496
> 
> I started wondering about the how's and why's of the two character's implausible encounter and the first bits of story started to form in my mind. At first, these were just separate bits of story unrelated to each other. But then, I came across this awesome remix: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IVw-4LEGm8g
> 
> Suddenly, EVERYTHING came together in my head and I was able to sketch out general plot lines for this story.  
> I originally was posting my weekly efforts on the various homestuck dedicated "Chan"s but they kept going offline. Not wanting to repeat my mistakes for a third time, I am now following the recommendations of my fans (or is it fan?) and will post my increasingly not so little story here. 
> 
> So, here I am a year later, still going strong despite a harddrive failure and multiple image boards going down. I guess now is as good of a time as any for a bit of a rewrite as well. 
> 
> So, please bear with me while I learn this site's interface. But, if you see me making the same mistakes over and over again, please, call me out on them.


End file.
